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The Eve on The Hill

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The horn is mourning on the hill, in the new evening,
The herds slowly climb it, the stars show the way, happy shining,
The waters weep into the wells, clearly springing,
Under an acacia tree, you, my darling, are waiting.
 
Holly and clear the moon pass through the skies,
You scout through the leaves with your very bright eyes,
The stars give birth, on the sky with clear nights,
Your heart is filled with longings, your mind filled with thoughts.
 
Rushing clouds fight with the sunrays at noon,
Old hidden houses dance under the full moon,
Broken and rusty well’s bucket squeak in the wind,
The valley is in a fog, the murmuring whistles left behind.
 
Weary peasants with their scythes on their back
Return from the fields

She Was Following Her Path in the Woods

She was following her path in the woods,
I take it after her footsteps.
When I get alongside her,
It takes my breath away.
 
I breathe one more time,
I say a word, she startles
And she looks in another part,
And she has no answer at all.
 
But I approach her more and more,
And I talk, and I give her advice.
She defends herself with one hand
And she always looks elsewhere.
 
When I put my arm on her waist,
She is bending, wants to escape,
But I always pull her at me,
Closer to me, closer to me.
 
She doesn't want it and she wants too.
I put her head on my shoulder,
I put on her close eyes, on her mouth
Countless kisses.
 
I hug her tighter to my chest.
My breath is closer to its end.
I ask her why she is grieved,
I ask her if she loves me.
 
And she opens her eyes,
Big, and powerful, and floating:
'You are dear to me exceedingly,
But you are naughty sometimes.'