May the pleasant sight unfold
Trees of silver and gold
Of which tell the tales of old
There I may rest
As I walk under the trees
And hear the buzzing of numerous bees
I smell the spring in the air
And see my love's waving blonde hair
Where the swift Nimrodel flows
Like diamonds it glows
There I can sleep
And my thoughts shall be freed.
There she also dwells
Of whom I shall not tell
You can always ask
But that's not an easy task
