An den Mond (J. W. Goethe)

Fill again bush and valley
Quietly with misty glow,
Finally releasing once
My soul completely;

Spread over my field
Soothing my gaze,
Like a friend's eye gently
Over my fate.

Every echo my heart feels
Of joyful and gloomy times,
Walking between joy and pain
In solitude.

Flow, flow, dear river!
I will never be happy,
So vanished jest and kiss,
And the loyalty so.

I possessed it once,
What is so precious!
That one never forgets it
To their torment!

Rush, river, along the valley,
Without rest and peace,
Rush, whisper to my song
Melodies,

When in the winter night
You rage overflowing,
Or around the spring splendor
Young buds gush.

Blessed is he who from the world
Without hate shuts himself off,
Holds a friend to his bosom
And enjoys with him,

What, unknown to men
Or not considered,
Through the labyrinth of the chest
Wanders in the night.