You are friends of the fleeing Horen
Tones above all, secretly in league
You stand, and the most beautiful thing, the soul after the sad death
Let those geniuses back in your
Gentle, imperishable power and beauty,
Yes you always awaken them to new life
Even from the grave.
My childhood closes to me in the sound of the flute
Your world of roses and the deep chalice,
Whose fragrance once, like the thought in the heart,
Long slumbered.
How could I sing that song , the voice
of your hot longing, your first love
plaintory, and all that unspeakably tender
Still bearable.
Once it's in rushing melodies
Shouting with joy, oh from so completely lost
flower days, returned to the heart,
Where it died.
That, oh sounds, as I often felt it,
That I couldn't stand it. Because the joy and youth
I have lost so much that the memory only comforts me.
But there is one thing I love when my suffering
And losses painful sounds of sighs and
All my woes, like Aeolus' breaths, quiet
In my heart
Dark, deeply decayed ruin plays:
For it seems to me as if things were coming the spirits of my
loved ones back from the past in such
blessed chords.

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