Evening on the hill: the long sad alphorns sound,
Flocks climb towards stars that glisten on the ground,
Springs weep crystal tears, and then I see
You, by the willow, my love, waiting there for me.
Saintly and pure, the full moon glides
While your large eyes gaze at the last of the leaves,
Dewy stars are born on the clear firmament,
In your breast so much longing, in your mind, content.
Clouds flow by, carving light as it streams,
Houses raise to the moon their old roofbeams,
The balance of the shaduf creaks in the wind,
Smoke drifts from the valley, pipes murmur in the fold.
And tired men with scythes, carried high on the shoulder
Return from the field, the call to prayer gets louder,
The bell from the old church fills the evening haze,
My soul suddenly flares with love - a white-hot blaze.
Now it won't be long before dumbness strikes the valley,
Now it won't be long and then I'll have you near me,
We'll stay the whole night beneath the willow tree,
And hour by hour I'll whisper how much you mean to me!
And then you'll rest your head close against mine
And smiling, we'll sleep beneath the vaulted frame
Of the ancient willow - a golden night of splendour!
Who wouldn't give up his life for such treasure?
Sara pe deal
English translation by Brenda Walker
No comments:
Post a Comment