The 24 Songs

The wanderer leaves his beloved's house in the dead of night after being rejected. He writes 'Good Night' on her gate as a final farewell.

The wanderer observes a weathervane on the beloved's house, seeing it as a symbol of her fickleness and the family's mercenary nature.

The wanderer is surprised that his tears freeze on his cheeks, though they spring from such a burning heart.

Desperately searching in the snow for traces of his beloved's footprints, the wanderer seeks any remnant of their happier times.

The famous linden tree where the wanderer once carved words of love now calls to him with promises of rest—a subtle invitation to death.

The wanderer's tears fall into the snow, and he imagines them flowing as a stream to his beloved's house when spring comes.

The wanderer addresses a frozen stream, comparing its icy surface to his frozen heart, both hiding turbulent depths beneath.

The wanderer recalls his frantic flight from the town where he was happy, feeling the hot stones burning his feet even in winter.

A will-o'-the-wisp leads the wanderer through rocky chasms, but he follows willingly, knowing all paths lead to the same end.

Finding shelter in a charcoal burner's hut, the wanderer realizes that rest only makes him more aware of his wounds.

In sleep, the wanderer dreams of May flowers and love, only to wake to frozen windowpanes and the crowing of cocks.

The wanderer feels utterly alone, observing that even the clouds and winds seem to have purpose while he wanders aimlessly.

A post horn sounds, making the wanderer's heart leap—perhaps there's a letter from his beloved? But he knows there won't be.

Frost has whitened the wanderer's hair, and he rejoices at seeming old—but when it melts, he's dismayed to be young again with so far to the grave.

A crow has been following the wanderer since leaving town. He asks if it intends to stay with him until death claims his body.

The wanderer pins his hopes on a single remaining leaf on a tree. When it falls, so do all his hopes.

Passing through a village at night, the wanderer hears dogs and sees sleepers dreaming of things they don't have—he has nothing to dream of.

A violent storm mirrors the turmoil in the wanderer's heart. He sees the stormy sky as a picture of his own inner state.

A dancing light leads the wanderer on—he knows it's a deception, but follows anyway, for any shelter from misery is welcome.

At a crossroads, the wanderer chooses a path no one returns from—the road that leads to death.

The 'inn' is a graveyard—the wanderer seeks rest among the dead, but even here is denied shelter and must continue on.

A sudden burst of defiance—the wanderer resolves to face fate boldly, whistling against the wind, though the gods are deaf.

The wanderer sees three suns in the sky—perhaps two were his beloved's eyes. When they set, he'll prefer utter darkness.

The wanderer encounters a barefoot hurdy-gurdy man, ignored by all, playing to an empty plate. He asks if they might journey together.