Das Abendland [English translation]

Promising grief,

the morning works its way

from distant places.

For it holds

in its lap

the seed of a great evil.

Alien and strange,

dawn already reaches

the thin rim of the sky.

An apprehension

is ominously spread

by the morning.

Mountains wrap themselves in mist,

soon covered in grieving crepe.

From the valleys rises a lament

resounding forth into the night.

A heavy sigh goes through

wide expanses of air, and a waft of wind

blows from distant mountains

as if from graves.

Leaves wave as if in farewell

in the loneliness of the forests,

and their mourning autumn dress

shimmers as if drenched in blood.

Every eye that still awaits

a proud living light

will soon get clouded by the grief

tears wrench out of it.

No gentle gift of hope strengthens

the noble spirit standing watch,

ingloriously starving in awe

in the night of the Occident.