Into the world of beauty's flame,
Into the world of offering's game,
Into the world of lustre flood,
I came, I came, my existence came.

I asked the question
but the answer never came
the wind hears nothing

I am quite tired with my groans;
O'ercharged with a heavy load
Of miseries, breaking all my bones,
Laid on me justly by my God.

I am all ashake, I may die
my heart's wish has seen no fulfillment
that lovely, pleasing, my heart throb
he hasn't come, ah Dear!

I always beg, yet never am relieved,
I grieve, because my griefs are not believed.
I cry aloud in vain, my voice outstretched,
And get but this, mine echo calls me wretched!

In an orchard I stroll, the scenic land I look,
Or treasures of mount, river and land I Look,
Everywhere, myriad is manifestations of Nature,
Dazed I am, with two eyes what a world grand I look.

Dragoons, I tell you the white hydrangeas turn rust and go soon.
Already mid September a line of brown runs over them.
One sunset after another tracks the faces, the petals.
Waiting, they look over the fence for what way they go.

Hvor skulde jeg kunne glemme
Det Udtryk i dit Øje,
Det Smiil, den bløde Stemme,
Den Straale fra det Høje,
Der lyste mig imøde! -
Og Du er blandt de Døde!

Hvor Himlen har Stjerner! jeg kjender jo hver,
De hjemlige Venner, hvor funkle de her!
De sende en Luftning saa frisk og saa mild,
En Lædskedrik i den brændende Ild,
Et Vindpust over det glødende Sand,
Det er som et Kys fra det danske Land!

Hvor det er selsomt at se Ungdom døe:
Den friske Kraft som Stjerneskud udslettes.
Dødsstormen bærer bort et Livsens Frø;
En bedre Jordbund er det, som forjættes.