Der Gang zum Liebchen
On my Way to my Beloved

Bohemian Folksong

The moon is shining brightly,
I ought to be off
To my sweet-heart.
I wonder how she is?

I hope she's not dejected
And moaning, and moaning
That she'll never ever
Set eyes on me again.

The moon had set, but I hurried on
In the best of high spirits,
Hurried on so that no-one
Should steal my beloved from me.

Doves - go on cooing,
Breezes go on whispering,
But let no-one, my beloved,
Steal my beloved from me.