To the Schwarzwald soars my song, up
To [the Feldberg], where the last small
Cluster of its comrade mountains
Toward the south are boldly looking,
And, all mailed in fir-tree armour,
Keep good watch there on the Rhine.
Be thou greeted, peaceful forest!
Be ye greeted, ancient pine-trees,
Ye, who oft beneath your shadow
Me, the weary one, have sheltered.