
Deep in the meadow, under the willow. A bed of grass, a soft green pillow Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes and when again they open, the sun will rise

And already, the boy with the bread is slipping away from me.

Deep in the meadow, under the willow. A bed of grass, a soft green pillow Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes and when again they open, the sun will rise

And already, the boy with the bread is slipping away from me.