O the soft, soft dreams of the garden of roses!
They creep ... (I look not) ... but they steal and creep.
Laurin the king of the rosy garden
Has a magic girdle that none can break.
It makes the pulse of his life to leap
With twelve men's strength. In the rosy garden
He is feared and feared for the girdle's sake.
Laurin the king of the garden of roses
Has a magic crown where strange birds so sing
That resistance and doubt by their song once kissed