The bird now flew to the juniper-tree and began singing: 'My mother killed her little son; the mother shut her eyes and her ears, that she might see and hear nothing, but there was a roaring sound in her ears like that of a violent storm, and in her eyes a burning and flashing like lightning: My father grieved when I was gone; 'Look, mother,' said the man, 'at the beautiful bird that is singing so magnificently; and how warm and bright the sun is, and what a delicious scent of spice in the air!' My sister loved me best of all; then little Marleen laid her head down on her knees and sobbed.
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