You performed a difficult deed over her,
But, poor friend, did you observe
Her marvelous holiday clothes
And strange Spring flowers?

I waited for you. But your shadow flashed by
In the distance, in the fields I also walked through,
Where she also once rested
Where you sighed over the mysteries of life.

And did you know I would triumph?
Will you vanish, having achieved but without love?
That I find an insanely young
Dream without you in the bloody flowers?

I need neither you nor your affairs,
To me you are absurd and pitiful, old man!
Your deed is mine.---And your reward belongs to me:
Mindless laughter and an insane shout!

27 December 1901