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The ancient singer went |
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Lamenting through the forest |
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Heard the birch wailing |
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Now drawing nearer he asks the sacred birch tree "Why art thou weeping?" |
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Giving wood a shape of a harp |
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Weep no more thou sacred birch tree |
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Grieve no more, my dear friend and my brother |
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I will turn thy grief to joy and fortune |
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Make thee laugh and sing with gladness and joy |
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The ancient singer made |
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A magic harp from birch wood |
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Fashioned of summer |
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He takes the harp in his hands |
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Turns the arch up, looking skyward |
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And magic notes follow |
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Weep no more thou sacred birch tree |
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Grieve no more, my dear friend and my brother |
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I will turn thy grief to joy and fortune |
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Make thee laugh and sing with gladness and joy |
