Till en vildmarkspoet [English translation]

And snow fell white in winter forest where the fox was keeping guard

For the stillness in a wilderness turning blue

Here you remained by the fire in the cabin and dreamed about a spring

And wrote your song and stood guard by the charcoal pit

Now it’s purling in the time of spring, your wild river in a vast forest

Now it’s buzzing of bees in your summer meadow

I sense traces of heavy steps that tired fiddlers took

And the blood of roses in the tones from the string of sorrow

Yet the wind is singing widely when autumn is burning red

Your song about the human condition, about the fight for life and bread

Now it’s purling in the time of spring, your wild river in a vast forest

Now it’s buzzing of bees in your summer meadow

I sense traces of heavy steps that tired fiddlers took

And the blood of roses in the tones from the string of sorrow

A wanderer, a fiddler, a king in beggars’ clothes

You burnt in the night full of cold and ice

The fire that was burning is still warm, your fairytale and your poem

About eternal sun and summer paradise

Now it’s purling in the time of spring, your wild river in a vast forest

Now it’s buzzing of bees in your summer meadow

I sense traces of heavy steps that tired fiddlers took

And the blood of roses in the tones from the string of sorrow

Yet the wind is singing widely when autumn is burning red

Your song about the human condition, about the fight for life and bread

Now it’s purling in the time of spring, your wild river in a vast forest

Now it’s buzzing of bees in your summer meadow

I sense traces of heavy steps that tired fiddlers took

And the blood of roses in the tones from the string of sorrow