The Watersprite, by Th Kittelsen

The Watersprite (Näcken)
By Erik Johan Stagnelius
(I - Morion - made the translation from Swedish.)

The evening's golden clouds surrounds the vault of heaven
the fairies at the meadow dance,
and the leaf-crowned Watersprite
his fiddle plays in the silvery brook.

Little lad among the willows of the shore
resting in the vapor of the violet,
hear the sound from the spring of water,
calling out in the silent night:

"Poor old man - why play?
would the pain dispense?
Freely you bring life to wood and ground
but a child of God you'll never be!

Moonlit night of Paradise
Eden's fields crowned by flowers
angels of light in heaven
never you behold them with your eye."

Tears run down the old man's face
down he dives into the billow
the fiddle quiets. Never again
the Watersprite will play in the silvery brook

Erik Johan Stagnelius

Disclaimer: I didn't find any translation of this poem, so I did it myself. I did the best I can, but I am no expert, please keep that in mind...

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