Where no wanderer has ever walked

Where no wanderer has ever walked,

high above hunter and horse,

the rocks hang in the sunset glow

like a cloud-castle.

There, between pinnacles and peaks,

wild carnations blooming all around,

the beautiful nymphs of the wood sit

and sing their song in the wind.

The hunter looks at the castle:

"She up there is my love".

He leaps off the balking horse -

nobody knows what became of him.