Along a secret forest path

Along a secret forest path

I like to creep in the evening light;

I go to the desolate, reedy banks,

and think, my maiden, of you!

As the bushes grow dark,

the reeds hiss mysteriously,

and lament and whisper,

and thus I have to weep and weep.

And I think that I hear wafting

the gentle sound of your voice,

and down into the pond sinks

your lovely song.