Bathed in the golden glow of evening,

how solemn the woods look!

The soft blowing of the eveving breeze

breathes in soft bird voices.

What are they whispering, the winds and the birds?

They are whispering the world to sleep.



Oh whishes, wich always stir

in my heart without rest or peace!

Longing which troubles my breast,

when will you rest, when will you slumber?

Oh yearning whishes, when will you fall asleep

to the whispering of the wind and the birds?



When my spirit no longer hurries

on the wings of dream into golden distances,

when my eyes linger no more with longing glance

at the eternal distant stars;

then will the winds and birds whisper

in harmony with my longing and life