Und als drei Jahr' vergangen war'n,
das Feld liegt öd und leer vorweg,
nichts errinnert mehr darran.
An eine nicht Gewesne Schlacht,
doch plötzlich hört man leiß,
der Nachtigallen Schg.
Als ob eine fremde Melodie,
zög üver das Land.
Von Ferne weht ein Wind,
und trägt sie fort.

(my awful translation)

And once three years had passed,
the field lies desolate and empty.
nothing reminds one.
of a battle that never was,
but suddenly, faintly one hears,
the nightingale's hymn.
As if a foreign melody,
drifts over the land.
A wind blows from afar,
and carries it away.


Might draw this again.
Don't really feel I've done this beautiful poetry justice.

I really would love to record this song
(I don't know who it is by. It's one of those things that's just passed on by mouth), but I
will not be in close possession of my recording device for
several weeks. /sob