Paroles de Birth of The Harp

The ancient singer went Lamenting through the forest Heard the birch wailing. Now drawing nearer he asks the sacred birch tree "Why art thou weeping?" "Giving wood a shape of a harp!" Weep no more thou sacred birch tree, Grieve no more, my dear friend and my brother. I will turn thy grief to joy and fortune! Make thee laugh and sing with gladness and joy! The ancient singer made A magic harp from birch wood, Fashioned of summer. He takes the harp in his hands, Turns the arch up, looking skyward. And magic notes follow! Weep no more thou sacred birch tree, Grieve no more, my dear friend and my brother. I will turn thy grief to joy and fortune! Make thee laugh and sing with gladness and joy!