The princess looked forth from her maiden bower.
The Lur of a herd-boy rang up from below.
“Oh, cease from thy playing and haunt me no more,
nor fetter my fancy that freely would soar,
when the sun goes down.”
The princess looked forth from her maiden bower
but mute was the Lur that had called from below.
“Oh, why art thou silent? Beguile me once more.
Give wings to my fancy that freely would soar,
when the sun goes down.”
The princess looked forth from her maiden bower.
The call of the Lur rose again from below.
She wept in the twilight and bitterly sighed,
“What is it I long for? God help me!” she cried
and the sun went down.