I have lost my soul's delight,
Sweetest-singing nightingale:
I would follow her in flight.

She has flown into the night.
Still I search, to no avail.
I have lost my soul's delight.

Beauty without taint or blight!
All my wit and will grow frail.
I would follow her in flight.

Now I see the cold sad sight
Of stars in heaven, and I wail:
I have lost my soul's delight.

Sleepless till the dawn's faint light
Slowly turns the vast sky pale,
I would follow her in flight.

Heaven's splendour, once so bright,
Has become wretched and stale.
I have lost my soul's delight;
I would follow her in flight.