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I went afield to hazel bush
There was a fire in my head
I cut myself a fishing rod
And so I continued in the dark
As the moon was looking at the stars
I went to the silver river
Caught a fish, clear as the moon
With my dark hazel rod.
There was a fire in my head
Now every night I have to pick
The apples golden as the sun
And the silver ones of the moon.
In the moonlight I wanted to take my catch
Home from the valley,
Then I herd the wind in the grass
Saying my name
In front of me in the grass at the shore
A nice and beautiful youth was standing
With apple flowers in his hair
That I had often seen in my dreams
There was a fire in my head
Now every night I have to pick
The apples golden as the sun
And the silver ones of the moon.
He looked at me and I forgot
The green valley and I was suddenly
Overtaken by deep sleep
That never finished.
Ever since I've been dragging myself through this world
With a hazel stick, where apples bloom
And I hope when the moonlight falls on me
To see the youth there, next to the river.
| Danke! ❤ |  |  |
| 19 Mal gedankt | ||
Von 
Boiled Cabbage am 2014-09-13 eingetragen
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Über den Übersetzer
Minor error, either spelling or translation. It should be fire in my head instead of fire in my had.