When thou art far, and the days go by without thee,

Strangely I suffer.

Perhaps even so in winter suffer the plants and the trees, when the Sun withdraws his life-ray;

Thin runs the blood in my limbs, sucked out of the arteries;

The heart shrinks closed and painful—I lose command and vigor;

At times like these, methinks, I too have strayed from my body,

Afar, in pursuit of thee, my sun and my savior.