Mignon’s Song. Translated from Goethe

Know’st thou the land where bloom the citron bowers,
Where the gold-orange lights the dusky grove?
High waves the laurel there, the myrtle flowers,
And through a still blue heaven the sweet winds rove.
Know’st thou it well?
There, there, with thee,
O friend! O loved one! fain my steps would flee.

Know’st thou the dwelling? There the pillars rise,
Soft shines the hall, the painted chambers glow;
And forms of marble seem with pitying eyes
To say--“Poor child! what thus hath wrought thee woe?”
Know’st thou it well?
There, there with thee,
O my protector! homewards might I flee!

Know’st thou the mountain? High its bridge is hung,
Where the mule seeks through mist and cloud his way;
There lurk the dragon-race, deep caves among,
O’er beetling rocks there foams the torrent-spray.
Know’st thou it well?
With thee, with thee,
There lies my path, O father! let us flee!