Fairy Tale - Aspazija

On a teensy weensy pony

rides the fairy tale;

Always in a big, big hurry,

wielding a golden whip.

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