When at an early hour
I go to the dark pine forest,
A bird sings in the valley,
[Sings] the best that it can.
I barely hear its blaring,
The world seems so old to me,
The flowers without leaves,
And grey the green forest.
 
You deer upon the brown heath,
You stag in the mountainous hunting-ground,
You both leap about freely;
Now you shall be left in peace by me.
My falcon, my hunting companion,
May now sway on his perch,
My dog, so courageous and quick,
May now lie beside the hearth.
 
I let my horn ring out
Through the wide, wide valley;
You most beautiful maiden of all,
Farewell, many thousand times.
I must travel out into the realm,
My heart aches sorely:
May God now keep you safe,
However bad my lot may be.
 
You most beautiful maiden of all,
You have such a proud spirit,
As if in high halls you were
The richest queen;
As if I, this curly lad, were
A poor musician
And played for charity
From door to door throughout the land. --
 
Who sang this song?
A free huntsman:
False tongues have caused him
Much bitter anguish.
He has sat drinking wine,
[Now] he stares into the empty glass,
And cannot forget her
Who has long forgotten him.