I would like to know what they sing

I would like to know what they sing

so beautifully at night,

though it is no one in the world

who watches with them.

And the clouds, they travel,

and the land is so pale,

and the night wanders silent

through the forest over grass.

Night, clouds, where they go to,

I know it quite well,

there lies a ground behind the Heights,

where my love now rests.

The hermit rings his bell,

she cannot hear it,

her locks fall

whole over her face.

And lest anyone startle her,

God has covered her

full with moonlight;

there she dreams of me.