| |
| Coachman, hurry up, faster! Drive faster |
| Someone's waiting for me, my heart tells me |
| My sweetheart waits for me there |
| From whom I've so long been parted. :: |
| |
| How gentle and tender floods the evening dusk |
| Wrapping all in its silvery veil |
| And in the beloved fields of my native land |
| Hark! songs resound as festivals are celebrated there! |
| |
| There's no place I need hurry anymore |
| My sweetheart didn't keep her promise |
| From whom I've so long been parted :: |
| |
| How dark and wretched floods the evening dusk |
| Wrapping all in its ashen burial shroud |
| And in the beloved fields of my native land |
| I wander alone as if in some strange land. |
| |
| Well, now, isn't that something? :: |
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