There is an ancient spinning wheel
lost in dreams by the fireplace.
I sit there in the evening in the twilight light,
when dark clouds pass by.
And dream with quiet desire
of days that have long since passed.
When the spinning wheel on the old fireplace hums very quietly in grandmother's room,
I hear many a song that has faded away,
as if in a dream, moving through the twilight.
And then the old time, which has long since disappeared, wakes up,
Childhood days and the happiness of first love.
Old spinning wheel, oh bring me the hours
I go back to my youth again.
The spinning wheel still knows the days
and, like me, remembers
how little grandmothers spun their fairy tales,
which she thought up for us.
When the spinning wheel on the old fireplace hums very quietly in grandmother's room,
I hear many faded tunes,
as if in a dream through them Twilight draws.
And then the old time awakens, which has long since disappeared,
Childhood days and the happiness of first love.
Old spinning wheel, oh bring me the hours
of mine Youth back once again.

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