I am a cowherd; I don’t deny it, my goods
Are those you see over there, I live happily
By guiding among the fresh flowering grasses
The sweetest company of my herd of cattle;

And there’s where they hear me, the love-¬struck trunks of trees,
Into which the ancients have been transformed;
Each and ev’ry one of them feels their own ruin;
In the way that I too feel all of my worries.

You, oh trunks of great trees, (I say to them) at one time
Considered yourselves to be so firm and secure
Within the arms of a beautiful companion;

Console yourselves in me, oh solid, sturdy trunks;
Because I, at one time, also once witnessed joy;
And today I do weep at the falsehoods of Love.