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First Line: Sing not, nightingale
Last Line: To my soul's maiden!


SING not, nightingale,
Under my window;
Fly away to the woods
Of my own country!
Learn to love the window
Of my soul's maiden!
Sing to her tenderly
Of my agony;
Sing of me without her,
Waning, withering,
As the grass on the steppe,
Autumn facing it.
Without her, at night,
The moon's overcast;
At midday, without flame
The sun goes its way.
Without her, who will now
Give me kind greeting?
And on whose breast shall I
Lay my head in repose?
Without her, whose word shall
Win a smile from me?
Whose song, whose welcoming
Shall now touch my heart?
Why sing, nightingale,
Under my window?
Fly away, fly away,
To my soul's maiden!





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