Der Gang zum Liebchen
On my Way to my Beloved
Bohemian Folksong
The moon is shining brightly,
I ought to be off
To my sweet-heart.
I wonder how she is?
I hope she's not dejected
And moaning, and moaning
That she'll never ever
Set eyes on me again.
The moon had set, but I hurried on
In the best of high spirits,
Hurried on so that no-one
Should steal my beloved from me.
Doves - go on cooing,
Breezes go on whispering,
But let no-one, my beloved,
Steal my beloved from me.
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