Long, long sleepless in this wondrous night I lay,
In the field a small flame wandered, gone astray,
Long the nightingale was singing,
Through the boughs its notes came ringing,
Through the hay.
Long, long, from the villages girls’ singing pealed,
Flowing forth until the horned moon, swooning, reeled,
The night was like a tale of azure-blue,
Till the stars went out I pondered and I knew
That more fair than stars through branches
Are a certain maiden’s glances,
--Mine and true.
Roaming early through the mist the horses go,
Soon the lads will rise and drive them swiftly home.
The wind chases billows, ringing
In my heart with native singing,
Ringing so.
