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The White Deer
Celles qui vont au bois,
C'est la mère et la fille
La mère va chantant, mais sa fille soupire
Qu'a-vous à soupirer, ma blanche Marguerite
J'ai bien trop d'ire en moi, et n'ose vous le dire
Reflexions on water
Fading moon, crisdom light
Whispering in the air
Eve of endless night
Distant sounds of yapping
Swiveling, coming tight
A white doe is standing
A lake on her side
Cursed she has been for so long
In this forest of old
Where ancient gods used to gather
Doomed she has run for her life
Harassed like a wild beast
By the dogs of her own brother
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Once she had been a princess
Of shining beauty
Venerated for her charm and wisdom
Mouth of Muse for poets
Light of Love for the knights
Splendent Pearl of her kingdom
Wrath burned in the heart of Hel
The Goddess of the Land
So jealous of the young beauty
Witch, she cast a spell on her
And with her mighty hand
She turned the maid into a deer
Deadly wounded by a spear
The brave and lonely deer
Fell by the arm of her brother
As the dogs were coming near
She dropped a bitter tear
The moonlight fading on her fur
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