Birth of the Harp

The ancient singer went

lamenting through the forest

heard the birch wailing

Now drawing nearer he asks the sacred birch tree

"Why art thou weeping?"

Giving wood a shape of a harp

Weep no more thou sacred birch tree

grieve no more, my dear friend and my brother

I will turn thy grief to joy and fortune

Make thee laugh and sing with gladness and joy

The ancient singer made

a magic harp from birch wood

fashioned of summer

He takes the harp in his hands

turns the arch up, looking skyward

And magic notes follow

Weep no more thou sacred birch tree

grieve no more, my dear friend and my brother

I will turn thy grief to joy and fortune

Make thee laugh and sing with gladness and joy