O take me Leannan Sidhe, *
I am waiting here for thee,
Up on the damp hill side
And the cold night mist does chide.
Upon what shrouded mount
Springs forth thy inky fount?
Or in which sacred grove
Known not to balmy Jove?
Dwelst thou in moony starry night
When my rude verse puts thee to flight?
Or by a summer stream by day
Singing the dreary clouds away?
Wast thou that fair Nimue,
Or the Belle Dame sans Merci?
If so I wish for thy beguiling smiles
To take me where sweet Vesper smiles.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.