The river knows, the wind understands

We would have met—there, on the far shore.
Come Tuesday night, crossing over in the dark.
Such a fierce river, hard to find the bank.
I thought, let this river grow small...
The night so long, as if it would never end!

Then suddenly you said,
Right by the river—that's where my city lies—
I'll build my home, cast off despair!

I said, then let it be so.
With trembling joy I thought,
Perhaps you truly love me—
Even without the grand words.

I laugh and wander, turn and dance,
Singing through the streets.
I tell the grass, I tell the landing...
You know, I am the apple of his eye!
Why else would he leave behind
The tender, flowering house by the river,
Abandon distant mansions
To build his settlement on this shore?

The wind whispered,
No, girl, you're drunk on hope,
Don't swallow such sweet lies.
Building by the river—
That's his own will or whim,
That boy is so headstrong!
You're nowhere in his stubborn heart!
When the mood strikes, he'll say it plain,
Girl, take your hand away,
Win me by force if you can,
Not by virtue—ah, just try harder!

Wind, you destroyer, you devourer of all;
What would you understand?
Love...she is foolish herself, terribly willful!
Or why else would fleeting hope
Burn the heart with dreams?