On a teensy weensy pony
rides the fairy tale;
Always in a big, big hurry,
Riding fast and never resting,
here she cannot stay:
When our youthful dreams are over,
she must ride away.
Long, it seems, that I was absent,
then I saw again –
On a teensy weensy pony
rode the fairy tale;
Pony’s shoes were made of silver,
bridle of flower bouquets,
In her rein, like rosy pearls,
gleamed my childhood days.
Aspazija [Elza Johanna Emilija Lizete Pliekšāne] (1865 – 1943) Latvia
Translator not stated
Source: Bruno Skulte, Land of Dreams, Choral Works, Albany Records, 2017
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