Leichte Segler in den HŲhen
Light Sailors of the Firmament

An die ferne Geliebte To the Distant Beloved


If, clouds sailing in the sky,
And you, brook so clear and cold,
You should come across my dear,
Greet her from me a thousand fold.

If, clouds, you see her walking
In the valley deep in thought,
Create an image of me
High in heavenís airy vault.

If she stands by autumn bushes
Yellowing, now leafless, there
Tell her what it is Iíve suffered,
Convey the burden of my care.

Gentle west wind, carry to her
On your way
All my sighs that vanish
Like the setting sunís last ray.

Whisper brook, so cold and clear,
Loveís entreaties in her ear,
And may your current truly show
My tearsí immeasurable flow.