The dark- weild wood drowses,
A forest spirit, a child, is sleeping
In a gully of wind- fallen trees,
Under the slightly trembling leafage

Stern crowns of oaks stand stock- still
In the darkness of silence
As the graves full of sorrow,
As our ancestors' ethereal shades

The night spread it wings
Bestowing dim light of the moon
Glaring stars came down
As if they were eager to counsel

The mirakulous lake sparkles,
Tempts it with its purity,
Where Beasts rove through
The thickets day and night

A redoutable aurochs' traces
Treaded the grass down
The moonlight sheds tears
Upon the mirror- like lake

Thoughts are entangled in the oak crowns
Time reduces its constant speed,
Oh, grandfathers, ancestors, brave warriors
The forest won't forget you! It thinks of everyone

Odours of night carry off disions
The visions of the auroch's realm filled with calm,
There's no place to be more lovely and mournful
The wood is still dreaming,
But the new dawn is soon...