ECHOES OF ROUMANIAN FOLK SONG
At Star-Rise
THE night comes fast, I hear the oxen chewing,
The stars are very white and very little.
My mother cries "Come, girl, spin off thy distaff."
Before I fill my pitcher
I stoop to ask the water,
Whether my face be fair,
I know my eyes are shining,
I see my lips are crimson,
I hear my silver necklace
Make music round my throat.
But it is nothing to him, he cares not:
The maize is golden in the sunshine,
My hair is golden in the sunshine,
He looks at the maize!
I have a keepsake, but not one that he gave me.
A little flower, a withered flower, I wear it in my breast:
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