He proceeds on his way.

I bear a burden — look not therein!

Naught will you find but sorrow and sin;

Sorrow and sin that wend with me

Wherever I go. And misery,

A gaunt companion, a wretched bride,

Goes always with me, side by side.

Sick of myself and all the Earth,

I ask my soul now — is life worth

The little pleasure that we gain

For all our sorrow and our pain?

The love, to which we gave our best,

That turns a mockery and a jest?