In the moonlight, in the forest night,
There the fairy sits at the well-spring;
She lets the splendour of her hair flutter in the wind,
And draws breath quietly and gently,
  And listens, and listens, and waits quietly,
  Whether anyone wishes to deliver her
From her lovelorn state.

  Oh huntsman, oh huntsman! take care, take care,
Approach quietly with your little dog!
Already she is letting her eyes sparkle mightily!
If once she smiles at you,
  No herb of the forest can heal you,
  Woe! here and beyond, your peace
Would be eternally destroyed!

  Oh huntsman, oh huntsman! blow your horn briskly,
So that she is abruptly startled and grows pale,
And conceals herself once more in the well-spring,
Otherwise you are lost, body and soul! --
  Thank God, thank God! she has flown!
  Thank God, thank God with a bright sound,
That she did not seize you!