By a lake deep in the forest once
A monk was doing penitence,
Always performing hard tasks,
Fasting, praying, labouring.
With a simple spade the old man strove
Now to dig his own grave—
For the death that was all he desired,
He prayed to the saints.

One summer’s day on the doorstep
Of his ramshackle hut
The hermit was praying to God.
The oak forest became darker;
Fog hung low above the lake,
And a red moon among the clouds
Glided silently across the sky.
The Monk began observing the lake.

Watching, overcome by fear,
He himself does not know why…
He sees the waves begin to foam,
Then suddenly they calm down once more…
And all at once…  like a shadow in the night,
White as the early snow in the hills,
A woman emerges, all naked,
And sits silently by the shore.

She watches the old Monk
As she combs her watery tresses.
The holy Monk trembles with dread,
Observing her charms.
To him she beckons,
Insistently nodding her head…
Then suddenly—like a falling star—
Beneath a dreamy wave she disappears.

The old man could not sleep that night in his gloom
And he could not pray all day—
Before him, as he sat confused in his thoughts,
He could still see a shadow of the fabulous maiden.
The oak forest once more was veiled in darkness;
The moon moved amongst the clouds,
And once again the maiden sat
By the lake, charmingly pale.

She watches, nodding her head,
Blowing kisses from afar, in jest,
She plays, splashing in the waves,
Laughing and crying like a child,
She calls to the Monk, gently moaning…
“Monk, O Monk, Come to me, come to me!...”
Then suddenly she submerges in the limpid waves;
And deep silence reigns.

On the third day the impassioned hermit
Sat near the charmed river bank
Awaiting the lovely maiden,
And a shadow was cast among the old oaks…
The dawn drove the darkness of night away;
The Monk was nowhere to be found,
Until some boys spotted
In the water his grey beard.