I'm a shepherd, and my parlours
Are the ruffled pasture sides,
Slopes of verdant hills and furrows,
Balks, with booming cry of snipes.
Yellow foamy clouds are trimming
Pine-tree wood with lace designs,
While I listen, lightly dreaming,
To the whisper of the pines.
Dewy poplars, softly waving,
Shine with verdure on the scene.
I am a shepherd, and my dwelling
Is the gentle field of green.
Cows salute and hail me chatting,
Using their tongue of nods.
Fragrant flowers are inviting,
Kindly, to the river spots.
I forget all grieves and cares,
On a heap of twigs, I dream.
To the sun I say my prayers,
'nd make communion by the stream.