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A boy once roamed into the woods,
His cheek was smooth and bright,
He lost his way in woods of fay
And was not home by night.

The village folk turned out and searched
From dawn till day was sped,
But since they found no trace of him
They gave him up as dead.

Now after seven years had passed
One morning it befell
That he was seen beyond the green
And heading toward the well.

They asked him who he was and stared,
His face seemed strange and dim.
His parents both were gone and no
One else remembered him.

"A while ago I lost the path
And walked in woods of fay,
I came in time to feast with them,
But soon was sent away.

The people there are white as snow
And they have golden locks,
These are their words for sun and moon,
For valleys, hills, and brooks."

They laughed: "This early in the day
He can't be full of wine!"
They said that he was mad and made
Him keeper of their kine.

So every day he fared afield
And sat upon a stone,
And late into the night he sang,
They left him quite alone.

And only children heard his song
And often sat beside,
They sang it far into the years,
Long after he had died.

(Original German poem by Stefan George,
translated into English by Ernst Morwitz and Olga Marx)

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Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.