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Through the night a wanderer walks

With a purposeful gait;

Amid winding vale and great hills

Crossing them all.

The night is beautiful

He marches on and never rests,

Not knowing where his path will lead.

Then a bird sings through the night.

"Oh, bird, what are you doing!

Why do you stay my mind and foot

And pour sweet troubles of the heart

Into my ear, so that I have to stand

And listen

Why do you lure me with welcoming song?

The good bird falls silent and says:

"No, wanderer, no! I don't lure you

With such sounds

I lure a little female from the hills

What's that to you?

The night is not beautiful to me when alone.

What's that to you? For you must walk

And never, never stand still!

Why are you still standing there?

What has my flute song done to you,

You wandering man?"

The good bird fell silent and thought:

"What has my flute song done to him?

Why is he still standing there?

The poor, poor wandering man!"