Die Mainacht
May Night


As the moon shines silver through the trees
Casting its sleepy light on the grass,
The nightingale sings,
And I wander sadly from bush to bush.

Hidden, a pair of doves coo
Their pleasure, but I turn aside
In search of deeper shade,
And shed a tear.

‘Oh when, you smiling face, which like the dawn
Lights up my soul, will I find you here on earth?’
And the tear burns my cheek.