One Night


When the mist has covered the hills
And Luna vies against the cloud,
The old man takes up his harp and walks
Into the wood, singing, but not loud:

O, holy night,
The end is in sight.
Soon I will sleep the long sleep, free
From all the cares that trouble me.

A rustling in the trees began:
Sleep sweetly now, you good, old man.
The grasses whispered as they swayed:
We’ll cover over where he’s laid.

And many a bird sang loud and clear:
May he find peace in his grave here.
The old man listens, silent in this place.
Death, at last, has shown his face.