Last winter, snow on the mountains melts
In the valleys, a flood from snow and rain
The crane returns from a distant land
But our pilgrim has not yet come
In the forest, the branches dress in green
The violet under the bush breathes a sweet scent
The nightingale tells long tales
But no message from the infernal realm
Spring passed - summer; the days are shortening
The air cools, the leaves are falling
From hell, however, no, no message comes
Will the pilgrim return yet
Did his body fall on the way
Did hell swallow him up
The forest man under the oak from a high tent
Looks ugly in the western direction
He sits and growls: "Whoever went here
No one escaped my knotty stick
I bet on one man's word
Just that one - and he betrayed me
Oh, he did not betray you!" - echoed at the same time
Next to the man, the pilgrim's elevated voice
A straight figure, a stern, bold eye
A cold calm on his forehead
And from his pale, noble face
As if the sun's glow was shining
I did not betray you, with a hard oath
I bound myself to you, a sinful servant of God
And now I swear to you again
I swear by the glory of the holy cross
That I bring you a faithful message from hell
The forest man trembled, hearing these words
And jumped up, reaching for his armor
But he stands as if stunned by lightning
He cannot stand the gaze of the pilgrim's gaze
Sit here and listen, horror stories
I announce to you after a hellish walk
My word testifies of God's wrath
But divine mercy is infinitely greater