Classic Poem

Die Nacht ist feucht und stürmisch

The night is wet and stormy,
No stars are in the sky;
The boughs in the forest whisper.
I wander slowly by.

Far off a candle glimmers
From the forester's lonely room;
But there the light shall not lure me,
It is too wrapped in gloom.

The sightless grandmother's sitting
In the high-backed, leather chair;
She listens, stiff as a statue,
Uncanny and silent there.

Cursing and pacing in anger,
The forester's red-headed son
Laughs in a burst of fury
And throws aside his gun.

The girl weeps at her spinning,
And moistens the flax with her tears.
While at her feet, the dachshund
Trembles with unknown fears.