When through the starry night
The mists of autumn glide
The air is filled with tragedies of olden times

Where with a dreadful tone
A nightbird plays its song
In forest dark at moors they come to life...

A bed of moss was granted,
She laid down with a sigh,
Embraced by the green blankets
She kissed the world goodbye

It was an eve in late summer, autumn was nigh
Still a warm sun did colour the sky
The meadows did shine in a strange golden light
And vales did forth the soft haze of night

When through the air a voice did resound
Beckoning the shepherd to rise from the ground

[THE SHEPHERD:]
"What sweet voice does sing in such a woebegone tone?
What maiden does wander the heather alone?"

Bewitched by its tone, he followed her song,
Whilst the sun did descend and the shadows grew long
In the dim light of dusk, near the sparkling cascade
On a moss covered stone sat a crying young maid

[THE SHEPHERD:]
"Why art thou dreary? What happened to thee?
What song didst thou sing so woefully?"

[THE MAIDEN:]
"Go whither O shepherd! Don't sadden thine heart
Thou canst not help me - not thou who thou art!
An old man who's been born in a cradle of wood
Of a tree that at least a hundred years stood,
Cut by a boy who at heart was still pure -
Might be my redeemer if he knew that he could..."

Bes till, O wand'rer!
Dost thou not hear the sad song of night?
How the wind does beckon thee to the rest of a while
and to lend him thine ear?

What woeful tale does it tell tonight?
What tragedy of old?

[Instrumental]

[Instrumental]

[Instrumental]

A night of December so dark and cold,
I walked a path ages old
The moon amongst the clouds revealed
Lightning valleys, forest and field

Embraced by silence I wandered the moor
An endless landscape by my side
When in the mist I saw a light
Dancing through the hazy night

I stood and watched the play in awe
was deeply touched by what I saw
I told my friends what I did see
And what they told did tremble me!

It's said the ghost of a young, fair maid
Is cursed to dwell beneath the shade
Of the olden oak she died below
O that was many moons ago!

When shadows grow longer
And the sun sets for the forthcoming night;
Our sorrow is stronger
As darkness and death are now near by our side.

Many a sun will set and tears of grief will be shed...