Vårvindar friska
Falconer
Fresh Spring Winds
Fresh spring winds play and whisper,
groves around like loving couples.
The streams rush, find no rest
until the waterfall plunges deep.
My heart laments, lament and listen.
The echo of the herdsman's horn dies among the rocks.
The water sprite plays,
sharing sorrows,
awake around mountain and valley.
The heart wants to burst, oh when the last
time I heard the voice of love.
The agony of farewell, the flame of the eyes.
Mouth to mouth at beating chests.
The mountain valley stood in blooming attire,
the thrush sang song after song for his bride.
The water sprite played,
sharing sorrows,
sighing mountain and valley.
My heart laments, lament and listen.
The echo of the herdsman's horn dies among the rocks.
The water sprite plays,
sharing sorrows,
awake around mountain and valley.
