Notice how our shadow, notice, Movitz mon frere,
within a darkening ends,
how gold and purple in the shovel, there,
is changed to gold and cloths.
Charon beckons from his roaring river,
and three times then the gravedigger himself,
more you your grape your trembling.< br/>Therefore, Movitz, come to my aid and take
grave care over our sister!
The little bell clings to the death of the big bell,< br/>praised, the cantor stands at the gate
and to the prayers of the squealing boys
this place is consecrated.
The road up to the temple's tomb-adorned city
lined between the yellowed leaves of roses,
moulding planks and stretchers;
until the long and black-clad row
softly bows in tears.
So went to rest, from fights and balls,
quarrels Löfberg, your husband,
no more from the grass long-necked and slender
she à ¤n glares back.
She from Dantobommen parted today
and with her all the funny teams.
Who will now command the bottle?
Thirsty was she and very thirsty is me;
we are all thirsty.
(Alas, longings, and hidden shelters
beneath the rustling boughs,
where time and death a beauty and ugliness
to a dust unite!
To you never envy sought any path;
happiness, else in the flight so wise,
never around the grifts rush.
Above that armed, what seems good to you,
Piously break their arrows.)

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