"He who dies young is loved by the powers of heaven".
The saying, my friend, that has come true with you,
Was written in thy pale features;
For thy countenance was serene, as if transfigured,
Thy mouth, it smiled, as if to say:
The fight is over, which has lasted long enough.
So I found thee when I was borne in pain,
To thee I hastened in the horror,
That my friend's heart had ceased to beat.
And as it burns, and the wound burns,
Shall its fiery pain be assuaged,
When I remember thy last hour.

Word-to-Word translation of a German poem by France Prešeren