Poema en versió original
Out over the Forth, I look to the north –
But what is the north, and his Highlands to me?
The south nor the east gie ease to my breast,
The far foreign land or the wilde rolling sea!
But I look to the west, when I gae to rest,
That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be;
For far in the west lives I loe best,
The man that is dear to my babie and me.
(Lied, Op. 25/23, Leipzig, febrer 1840)