The dark- weild wood drowses, A forest spirit, a child, is sleeping In a gully of wind- fallen trees, Under the slightly trembling leafage
Stern crowns of oaks stand stock- still In the darkness of silence As the graves full of sorrow, As our ancestors' ethereal shades
The night spread it wings Bestowing dim light of the moon Glaring stars came down As if they were eager to counsel
The mirakulous lake sparkles, Tempts it with its purity, Where Beasts rove through The thickets day and night
A redoutable aurochs' traces Treaded the grass down The moonlight sheds tears Upon the mirror- like lake
Thoughts are entangled in the oak crowns Time reduces its constant speed, Oh, grandfathers, ancestors, brave warriors The forest won't forget you! It thinks of everyone
Odours of night carry off disions The visions of the auroch's realm filled with calm, There's no place to be more lovely and mournful The wood is still dreaming, But the new dawn is soon...