A. Klášterský (1866–1938)
When I came out with Manka from dancing
The folks were already astir,
The light of the morning was breaking,
And the song of the birds filled the air.
I stood there with Manka and listened,
And great was the beauty we had;
And I felt there was something within me
That sang with the birds and was glad.
Then Manka sank down on my bosom,
And she crumpled her handkerchief tight,
So gently, so quietly weeping,
Out of sheer love and delight.