Wild, wild, wild rushes the wind

Wild, wild, wild rushes the wind,

summer has almost left the land.

The blackening waters lap against the quay;

I saw him on the quay, that royal man.

His eye was as deep as the fjord out there;

I could sink myself into it.

His broad chest was a velvet pillow;

I could rest upon it.

At his feet I could fall with a sigh

and smile, should his hand caress my brow.

Often they said that the dove was fair.

Now I know, who is the hawk!

Wild, wild, wild rushes the wind,

could I but attend the ball tonight!

I'd stand on the threshold, afraid, -

and yet would so like to dance!

His eye was as deep as the fjord out there;

I could sink myself into it.