The Summerwind's Wild Chase

Sir Goosefoot, Lady Pimpernel,
Now quickly duck,
because the summer wind's wild chase is coming.
Hesitant the midges fly,
from the reed-lined grove,
the wind engraved the water's silvery disc.
It's worse to come, than you ever imagined;
Ho! Eerie sounds waft over from the beeches!
It's St. Johns dragon with his red fiery tongue,
and the black meadow dew, a shadow bleak and dead!
What a surge and swaying!
What a hustle and ringing!
Into the ears of the corn slashes the foul-mooded wind,
so the cornfield whispers and trembles.
With its long legs the spin fiddles,
and torn away is, what she busily wove.
Tinkling the dew comes down from the hills,
Stars shoot and vanish at the blink of an eye;
Fleetingly the moth rustles through the hedge-rows,
the frogs jump to watery shelter.
Quiet! What may be the wind's wish?
If the withered leaf it turns,
it searches for those gone too early:
spring's blue-white blossomy seams,
the earth's fleeting summer-dreams --
they are long gone to dust!
But up to the tree-tops
It goes to loftier spaces,
Because up there, as intricate as dreams
it thinks the blossoms to be!
And with wondrous sounds
in their leafy crowns
it again greets
the slender beauties.
Look! Now that's over too.
Over lofty steeps it twirls on free
to the lake's blinking mirror,
and there in the wave's neverending dance,
in the star's pale reflection
it peacefully rocks to sleep.
How quickly the quiet came!
Ah, how light and bright it was!
Oh, rise from the blossom tiny lady-bird,
And ask your beautiful wife to make a lively dance in the sunshine.
Already the waves dance at the cliff's edge,
already the snail glides through the grass,
now the birds of the wood rise,
dew shakes off the blossom from its wavy hair
and looks out for the sun.
Rise, rise, you flowers to bliss!