Through the land the hot sirocco blows,
And within my heart the old flame glows,
Sweet music within me is stirring.
Oh Tiber-stream, oh St. Peter's dome,
Oh thou all-powerful ancient Rome,
Naught care I for all thou containest.
Where'er in my restless wanderings I rove,
My gentle and lovely Schwarzwald-love,
The fairest on earth thou remainest!
Oh Ponte Molle, how lovely was she!