The lark does not sing at night,
Or not tonight at least.
When the darkness settles
And so does the mist,
The lark is nowhere to be heard.  

When the lark does not appear,
Neither does the deer.
With her majestic coat
And soft black eyes,
She goes into her hiding place.

When the deer is not seen,
The flying trout do not fly;
Nor do they merrily swim
Across the river's bay, no longer
brightly shimmering.

When the river is dull,
And the skies are dullened
By winter's smouldering cold,
Where on earth will I find the nature
My heart so fervently yearns?