The day’s turning in.
Dew’s covering the grass.
The clouds in the sky are turning red.
Everything is so still!
I don’t know what to do.
I guess I’m in a somber mood.

Frogs croak among the reeds,
Foxes banter on the moor,
And singing is heard from afar.
My heart takes a leap,
My eyesight’s a blur,
And tears are streaming down my cheeks.

Beyond the paddock,
Far across the heath,
A windmill is shimmering in the sky.
It’s as though I were
Right in front of its door,
Sitting and playing on its hill.

Then I see someone there.
I know him so well,
Have sat on his lap many times.
The grinding stone was ringing.
The man sat there singing.
The clouds in the sky had turned all red.

I was little then,
And now I’m alone.
Who knows if the old man is still there?
The air is so balmy.
The song is so sad.
Thank God, the mill’s still running there!