Wandl' ich in dem Wald des
Through the wood when I am
In the dusky eventide,
Goes a dainty form in
Always closely at my side.
Is not this thy veil, the white one?
This the gentle face I love?
Is it merely moonlight
Through the gloomy firs above?
Is that sound the sound of
From mine own eyes welling deep?
Or dost thou,
Beloved,
Walk to-night by me and weep?
Es ragt ins Meer der
The Runic stone from the sea rears
Where I sit and dream and ponder;
The winds they pipe; the sea-gulls cry;
The billows foam and wander.
Oh, many a maiden loved have I,
With many a lad gone roaming—Where are they now?
The winds, they sigh-The billows wander foaming.
