The Watersprite (Näcken) By Erik Johan Stagnelius (I - Morion - made the translation from Swedish.) The evening's golden clouds surrounds the vault of heaven the fairies at the meadow dance, and the leaf-crowned Watersprite his fiddle plays in the silvery brook. Little lad among the willows of the shore resting in the vapor of the violet, hear the sound from the spring of water, calling out in the silent night: "Poor old man - why play? would the pain dispense? Freely you bring life to wood and ground but a child of God you'll never be! Moonlit night of Paradise Eden's fields crowned by flowers angels of light in heaven never you behold them with your eye." Tears run down the old man's face down he dives into the billow the fiddle quiets. Never again the Watersprite will play in the silvery brook Erik Johan Stagnelius Disclaimer: I didn't find any translation of this poem, so I did it myself. I did the best I can, but I am no expert, please keep that in mind... Image "The Watersprite" by Th Kittelsen ©. Copyright © Morion. All Rights Reserved. No part of this website may be copied or reproduced without permission.