Again I Sing my Songs
Helena Frank translation
Once again my songs I sing thee, Now the spell is broken; Brothers, yet again I bring thee Songs of love the token. Of my joy and of my sorrow Gladly, sadly bringing;— Summer not a song would borrow— Winter sets me singing.
O when life turns sad and lonely, When our joys are dead; When are heard the ravens only In the trees o’erhead; When the stormwind on the bowers Wreaks its wicked will, When the frost paints lying flowers, How should I be still?
When the clouds are low descending, And the sun is drowned; When the winter knows no ending, And the cold is crowned; When with evil gloom oppressed Lie the ruins bare; When a sigh escapes the breast, Takes us unaware;
When the snow-wrapped mountain dreams Of its summer gladness, When the wood is stripped and seems Full of care and sadness; When the songs are growing still As in Death’s repose, And the heart is growing chill, And the eyelids close;
Then, O then I can but sing For I dream her coming— May, sweet May! I see her bring Buds and wild-bee humming! Through the silence heart-appalling, As I stand and listen, I can hear her song-birds calling, See her green leaves glisten!
Thus again my songs I sing thee, Now the spell is broken; Brothers, yet again I bring thee Of my love the token. Of my joy and of my sorrow Gladly, sadly bringing,— Summer not a song would borrow!— Winter sets me singing.