Vasysm - translations added

She sits there bored, such a lovely delight,
her dark hair is distraught,
her hand ever bright
me has long ago forgot, -

Canticle

In vain was I defending and I sneak out of battle
Under the white moon's shadow, as my tall spear is shattered.

Turn, o soul, into a child
and sneak gently on the sly
through the maize with tufted tessels
to feel once again elated.

We know that one times one makes for one,
but an unicorn by a pear
we don't know how much they make.
We know that five without four is worth one,

Once on a time, as poets sing
High tales with fancy laden,
Born of a very noble king
There lived a wondrous maiden.

Come to the forest spring where wavelets
Trembling o'er the pebbles glide
And the drooping willow branches
Its secluded threshold hide.

'Tis eve on the hillside, the bagpipes are distantly wailing,
Flocks going homewards, and stars o'er the firmament sailing,
Sound of the bubbling spring sorrow's legend narrating,
And beneath a tall willow for me, dear one, you are waiting.

I move a white day,
He moves a black day.
I go forward with a dream,
He takes it from me to war,

Inside a hope I take cover from cold
like a newly built oven is coated
into a pottery relief mold
always to fire betrothed.

Entering springtime labors

I