Fair love, our mutual friend, took wing,  
That is the reason why  
My melancholy song must sing 
To all the world goodby. 

Frail memory's cold finger tips 
Will shut the past away, 
That it no more shall cross my lips, 
Nor trough my spirit stray. 

Now many a murmuring of streams, 
How many starlit flowers, 
How many, many lover's dreams 
I've buried with the hours. 

To what unfathomed depth unknown 
Had they their roots in me; 
And, wetted by my tears, have grown, 
Beloved one, for thee. 

Through what sad torment did they rear, 
Their blossoms to fulfill; 
And o how sorry am I, dear, 
That I don't suffer still. 

But you are now for ever gone, 
Death called you very far; 
And those gay eyes that glory shone 
Now full of darkness are. 

Your wistfully enchanted smile 
Did somehow know, it seem, 
To make of dream real life a while, 
And out of life a dream. 

And now I feel that you must dwell 
Where the moon brightly lights 
That country which the legends tell 
Of thousand and one nights. 

Love's mystery was too complete, 
Too gentle and too strong; 
A dream too wonderfully sweet 
That it could last for long. 

Maybe too much an angel you, 
Too little just a girl, 
That this strange ecstasy we knew 
Its wings so soon should furl. 

Too much dear one both you, 
In love's embrace were blind; 
Too much forgot the lord on high, 
Too much forgot mankind. 

Maybe indeed there is no room 
In a world filled with distress, 
Midst so much grief, and so much gloom, 
For so much happiness.  

English version by Corneliu M. Popescu

Transcribed by Andrei Antonache
School No. 10, Focsani, Romania
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