Oh, why this brief night a wish
Was so wondrously fair?
My heart would then not, anguish.
Nor my soul know despair...
In the fragrant warm spring
I first met her fairer gaze.
The flowers around were blooming,
The nightingale sang so sweet praise.
I gave her my whole soul,
Lived that time only for her;
I kissed and caressed her all
And loved her beyond measure.
Heeding neither my pleas
Nor my tearful bad cries,
She suddenly walked to the altar—
Not with me, but with another.
And no one could see me owfool,
As I stood in the church, brief,
Leaning against the stout wall,
Weeping in inconsolable grief.
So why, God, must I perish
For what reason should live,
If cruel fate has punished
That I may not love her in grief.