O, my song. стихи Людвига Рельштаба, перевод на ан

O, my song, it flies with plea
Softly in midnight.
In a grove your lightly step
Come my friend, you'll come

When the moon is shining brightly
Leaves are noisy so gloomy at this late time
And nobody, my friend, my dear,
Will not hear us
Will not hear us

Listen, it resounds in the grove
Song of the nightingale,
Their sounds are full of sorrow,
Praying them for me.

You hear sounds of the languor,
And all your blues of love,
How they direct emotion
And in your soul love
And in your soul love

Let yourself accept their call
You in your own soul
And on a secret tryst
Rush yourself
You rush