't 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...
|
|
-----------------
|
The Shepherd And The Maiden Ghost
|
| Empyrium |
