From dream to death.

You who will help me in my agony,
Say nothing to me;
Let me hear a little harmony,
And I will die well.

Music soothes, enchants, and releases
Things of this world:
Cradle my pain; I beg you,
Do not speak to it.

I am weary of words, weary of hearing
What can lie;

I prefer sounds so that instead of understanding,
I only have to feel;

A melody into which the soul plunges
And which, effortlessly,
Will lead me from delirium to dream,
From dream to death.

You who will help me in my agony,
Say nothing to me.

For relief, a little harmony
Will do me great good.

You will fetch my poor nurse
Who tends a flock,

And you will tell her it is my whim,
At the edge of the grave,

To hear her sing softly, from her lips,

A tune from long ago,
Simple and monotonous, a sweet tune that touches the heart
With a few voices.