Bushes, valleys, silently,

You fill with misty light,

Easing my soul utterly

Again, at last, at night:

Soothingly you cast your gaze

Over a dark country,

As gentle and friendly eyes

Guard my destiny.

Glad, and troubled, times

Echo in my heart,

I walk between pain and delight,

In solitude, apart.

Flow on, beloved flood: flow on!

I’ll never know joy again,

Laughter and kisses, both are gone,

And loyalty flows away.

There was a time I had as yet

Life’s most precious thing!

Ah, a man can never forget

That which torments him!

River, through the valley, murmur,

Without rest or peace,

For my singing, gently whisper,

Murmuring melodies,

When you rage on winter nights

And then overflow,

Or when around the Spring’s delights

Of bursting buds, you go.

Happy are we if, without hate,

Hidden from the world,

We hold a friend to our heart

And with him explore

What, unknown to all their art,

Ignored, by all mankind,

Through the labyrinth of the heart

Wanders in the night.

— Goethe, To The Moon