The great forge is idle,
The fire burns low.
Blow, wind of heaven, blow, fiercely blow,
Until dying embers
Are once more aglow.

The white hand is idle,
The sad heart is cold.
Shine, sun of heaven, shine, sun of gold,
Cold hands and bosoms
In thy warmth enfold.

Sad heart, awaken,
White hand, be strong!
Shine, sun of heaven, banish all wrong.
Blow, wind of autumn,
Break forth in song!