You who hover
Brahms, Johannes
You who hover
Around these palms
In night and wind,
You holy angels,
Silence the treetops,
My child is sleeping.
You palms of Bethlehem
In the roaring wind,
How can you today
Bluster so angrily!
O roar not so!
Be still, bow
Softly and gently;
Silence the treetops!
My child is sleeping.
The child of heaven
Endures the discomfort,
Oh, how tired he has become
Of earthly sorrow.
Oh, now in sleep,
Gently softened,
His pain fades,
Silence the treetops!
My child is sleeping.
Fierce cold
Comes rushing,
How shall I cover
The little child's limbs?
O all you angels,
You winged ones
Wandering in the wind.
Silence the treetops!
My child is sleeping.