War breaking out, my friends to it
As to a banquet prest;
I with them; but me cruel fate
Soon parted from the rest.

In weary idleness their steps
I followed mentally;
And oft their relatives I cheered
With words of victory.

Time passed: the thoughts of days gone by
Sad tears of sorrow yield;
Then ceased the war. Where are my friends?
Dead on the battlefield.

Now I am sorrowful at feasts,
Where others' joy is great;
In wine-cups e'en the past recalled
Embitters all my state.

Sang a little bird, and sang,
And grew silent;
Knew the heart of merriment,
And forgot it.
Why, O little songster bird.
Grew you quiet?
How learned you, O heart, to know
Gloomy sorrow?
Ah! the little bird was killed
By grim snow-blasts;
Perished is the fellow brave
Through ill gossips!
Had the bird but flown away
Tow'rds the blue sea!
Had the youth but run away
Tow'rds the forest!