Through the silent trees of a calm forest,
That rests, not disturbed by any tempest
Near the joyful river with its silver lines
Near the sandy banks as quiet as shrines
Lies a lost soul, a sad and dreaming man
Watching the sky, lying on the sand so tan.
He is waiting for a sign, waiting for release
Enchained by an innocent look of a miss
He cannot speak; he can only wait in vain
For his love, but the birds laugh in disdain
Because no one comes there, he’s all alone
Beside the trees’ silence and the river’s tone.
So lost is the soul of such a man, so troubled!
A man that in the purest love has stumbled.
His eyes see only the fading image of a memory
A piece of time, seemingly meaningless, a story
Yet the memory of her face comes to persist
It eclipses other thoughts, it lies in their midst.
And as the lover sits on the smooth sandy bank
It seemed the whole forest in thoughts sank
The moon was shining on the leaves so green
The wind was whispering, moving unseen
And the lover realized love’s cruel mischief
And how he can love, suffer, feel no relief
Because this is the curse of the man who dreams
To be tangled in his own ideals, and it seems
That never do these models exist in this world
And only the sun an moon, the forest have told
The story of the lonely lover, who stayed to see
The falling yellow flowers from a linden tree.