excerpt

Ewe-lamb, small and pretty,

For her sake have pity,

Let it just be said

I have gone to wed

A princes most noble

There on Heaven’s doorsill.

To that mother, old,

Let it not be told

That a star fell, bright,

For my bridal night.

Firs and maple trees

Were my guests. My priests

Were the mountains high.

Fiddlers, birds that fly,

All birds of the sky.

Torchlights, stars on high.

English version by W. D. SNODGRASS