The Return Home, 62

I would that my woes all their fulness
In one single word could convey;
To the merry winds straight would I give it,
Who would merrily bear it away.

That word so teeming with sadness
They would carry, my loved one, to thee
Thou wouldst hear it at every moment,
Wouldst hear it where’er thou mightst be.

As soon as thine eyelids at nighttime
Are peacefully closèd in sleep,
My word would straightway pursue thee
Far into thy visions most deep.