Travelling song

The autumn wind shakes the trees,

The night is damp and cold;

Wrapped in a grey coat

I ride alone in the forest.

And while I'm riding,

My thoughts rush forward;

They carry me, light and easily

To the house of my beloved.

The dogs bark, the servants

appear with flick'ring candles,

I run up the winding stairs

With jingling spurs.

The wind murmurs through the leaves,

The oak-tree speaks:

"What is it you want, you foolish rider,

With your foolish dreams?"