Oh, if the moon's beams softly glide

Tove:

Oh, if the moon's beams softly glide,

and peace and quiet spread in space,

not water seems to me the sea's width,

and that forest seems to be neither bush nor tree.

It's not the clouds, that adorn the sky,

and valley and hills not the earth back,

and changing forms and colours, just idle imaginings,

and all of this just pale reflections of a god's imagination.