From the top of my hill

From here, from the top of my hill
I can still glimpse my love
walking on slim spars under sail
He promised
I will return
He promised
when corn becomes yellow
and soil can be tilled

Not a tear on me
hasn't gone into the sea
If he leaves now,
he won't return again.

Oh northerly wind,
to thee I praise
heart in hand,
bent on my knees
Ferry back home in health
my love to me

What a pity I am,
thinking deep in my heart
That I shall not see him ever again
And I am troubled and in sorrow
and I will never cease
even when my death bell tolls
here in the top of my hill