I wait here by my log-fire
as the hours pass by
as the stars migrate slowly
and the night moves toward day.
I wait here for a woman
coming from afar to me
my dear one, my dear one
whose blue eyes come my way.

I thought she’d be a wandering,
snow-covered flower and I dreamed
of her purling, elusive laugh, bright
I thought I’d seen
my loved one as she was approaching
through the woods, o-er the heaths
on a wintery night.

Overjoyed I would happily
carry my loved one
through the undergrowth
to where my cabin is near,
and raise up a jubilant cry
to my dear one:
You are welcome at last
after such lonely years!

I wait by my log-fire
as the hours pass by,
while the forests are singing
and the skies fill with sighs.
I’m waiting for a wanderer
coming from afar to me —
my dear one, my dear one
with her lovely blue eyes.