By Joseph von Eichendorf (1788-1857)
Translated from the German
I thought the heavens masculine
The sleeping Earth caressed,
And she had stirred and dreamt of him
All in her blossoms dressed.
Along the harvest went a breeze
And gently bent the grain,
It made a shiver in the trees;
The stars like silver rain.
Then my soul spread out her span
Of wings and took to air
Above the still and peaceful lands
To find my homeland there.
