from Die Walküre

by Richard Wagner
Trans. by Frederick Jameson

Winter storms have waned in the moon of May,
with tender radiance sparkles the Spring;
on balmy breezes, light and lovely,
weaving wonders, on he floats;
o'er wood and meadow wafts his breathing,
widely open laughs his eye:
in blithesome song of birds resounds his voice,
sweetest frangrance breathes he forth:
from his ardent blood bloom out all joy-giving blossoms,
bud and shoot spring up by his might.
With gentle weapons' charm he forces the world;
winter and storm yield to his strong attack:
assailed by his hardy strokes now
the doors are shattered that, fast and
defiant, once held us parted from him.

Thou art the spring
that I have so longed for
in frosty winter's spell.
My heart greeted thee with blissfullest dread,
as they look at first on me lightened.
Strange has seemed all I e'er saw,
friendless all that was round me;
like far off things and unknown,
all that ever came near.
When thou camest all was made clear:
as my eyes on thee fell, mine wert thou only:
all I hid in my heart, all I am;
bright as the day dawned on my sight,
like echoing tones struck on my ear,
as in winter's frosty desert
my eyes first beheld the friend.