Look at my beloved trees,
How majestically they are standing,
All their branches having been spread
With stunningly beautiful hoar frost!

From top to bottom,
On all the twigs,
It is hanging white and delicate, tender and twisted,
And it couldn't be more beautiful;

And all the trees round about,
Absolutely all of them as far as the eye can see,
Are standing there adorned with the same glory,
In the same majesty.

They can be seen and gaped at
By any of the farm-workers,
He can go up and down
And take pleasure in them.

He even brings his wife and kids
Away from the fire-side,
And they process together into the woods!
And that is well worth doing.

Simple enjoyment of nature,
With no complicated ins and outs,
Is lovely, like a loving kiss 
From a pious man.

You townspeople have lots of beautiful things,
A great deal that is beautiful in general,
Credit and money and golden rings,
And banks and stock exchanges;

But alder trees, oaks, pastures and spruce trees
Covered in hoar frost near and far - 
You don't have anything as good as that
You dear rich lords!

That is something that nature, in its own way
And following its own path,
Has reserved for us farming people
Who understand nothing else.

So very beautiful, our woods are so very beautiful!
Over there mist is everywhere,
Here there is the shape of a white tree
In full sunlight

Bright light, quiet, noble and free,
And, on top of everything, refined! - 
May all human souls be
As brightly lit and as pure!

We look on that and we think
About it in a simple way:
Where did the frost come from, and how
Did it come to be like that?

Because yesterday evening, pure twig!
There was no sign of any frost! -
There must have been someone 
Who scattered it!

One of God's angels goes around at night
Secretly scattering here and there,
And when the farm labourer wakes up
He has already gone away.

You angel, who are so good,
We offer you our thanks and praise.
Oh, for the sake of the blessed Christ, just make
The trees white again!