English Rendering
Our life is but a dream,
Why should one toil in vain?
I’m therefore drunk all day
And lie prostrate at the porch.
Awake, I look at the courtyard green;
A bird sings amid flowers fair.
When I ask spring how old it is,
It says I am as old as my song.
I’d sigh, but soon I check my breath;
I drink my cup of wine instead.
I sing until the moon rises bright;
My song over, I forget the feeling.
