The wind that blew through the pines is silent.

Peacefully, the mountains stand in spring’s mist.

The way from the mountain is still long, the valley is far,

the little birds return to their nest.

They sing on their way without any haste.

Sunset’s shadow is hiding behind the mountain tops.

Calmly, dawn is setting on the valley.

Where is my home? Where is my beloved home?

I envy the little birds in the woods,

they fly to their nest with their flock.