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The nightingale sang

The nightingale sang, oh, how he* sang,
And silence listened to his song.
How I wanted, that he sang to the end
About, that you can't start from the beginning.
 
And he was whistling night and day,
And he was making such a quaver
As if he send the help my way
Just to get warm from midnight shiver.
 
Like living water the fog was flowing on,
Haystacks, haystacks were flowing in the fog.
And even the stars, to this song
Reflection of heavens were.
 
And he was whistling night and day,
And he was making such a quaver
As if he send the help my way
Just to get warm from midnight shiver.
 
And the air smell of grass,
And I've stood at heaven's door,
And he was twirling in his bushes,
Rejecting human glory forever more.
 
And he was whistling night and day,
And he was making such a quaver
As if he send the help my way
Just to get warm from midnight shiver.
 
The quiet will come, I understood,
The moon will freeze like a bitter lump.
You will fly away and return you would,
But you'll sing to another one.
 
The nightingale sang, oh, how he* sang,
And silence listened to his song.
How I wanted, that he sang to the end
About, that you can't start from the beginning.
 
And he was whistling night and day,
And he was making such a quaver
As if he send the help my way
Just to get warm from midnight shiver.