No voice, no singing,
I call at the distance

Only like sad whaleos songs resound from dark fog
Mournful the soul lacerating lamentations

Only the silent wind, this one my tears dries up
Only deep silence is music of my heart,
Which entwines by roots and thorns of grief
Dies hopelessly, slowly and acerbly

In clutches of anxiety flourishes in my soul the grief
The rain of suffering fills up my eyes by paleness

And I deaden by merciful cruelty,
I'm condemned the joy to reprobate

My soul and heart now dance in convulsive
Inebriation from feelings and moods of this dream

My life is only the shade of sorrow
Is only the pang, the garden of woe and sadness,
When the love like shadows in light disappeares,
In the light of endless darkness and gloomy nightly visions

No voice, no singing