English Rendering
Having long left hills and streams, how
I love to roam in woody place!
Coming with sons and nephews, now
Through hazels I see ruined trace.
I pace up and down on waste land
And find debris of dwellers old.
Marks of old wells and stoves still stand,
Dead branches are left in the cold.
I ask a woodman passing by,
If he knows who lived here before.
The woodman answers with a sigh,
"They are all dead and gone, no more."
Thirty years passed in town and court.
Everything has changed, it is true.
Life is a vision fair and short;
All will vanish into the blue.
