The Musicians of Klosderdal are a fictional Aavaperjan folk tale that takes inspiration from the Town Musicians of Bremen. Allegedly, however, the story is older, so maybe it was the other way round?
Hartmut, an old ox, liked to sing to himself while plowing the fields, until his master sold him to a butcher. He narrowly escaped . Trude the goat bleated happily during a bishop's sermon and was banished for making "unholy noises". Ilsa the cat was blamed to chase away good spirits with her "howling". Guda the goose honked in rhythm to the chapel bells, until the abbot declared that "no beast should mock the sacred sound", and she was chased away with stones.
They met and found themselves a place deep in the forest where they made music together. Villagers who passed nearby heard the sounds and whispered forest spirits, or forgotten woodland folk. Some feared it, others brought offerings - bread, berries or flowers.
Years passed, the music continued. One day, a bishop named Anselm von Hochquell rode into Klostertal. Hearing of the “voices in the forest,” he believed them to be the work of witches or the devil. So he decided to exorcise them and marched into the forest. But when they reached the clearing, there were no spirits—only four animals, sitting in a circle, gently making music with stones and shells, and staring at him with bright, unashamed eyes. The bishop froze. He had expected demons. Ghosts. Witches. Not… this.
Anselm returned to town and never spoke of what he saw. But he left a small loaf of bread at the edge of the forest every spring after. And to this day, in the deeper woods of Aavaperja, travelers still pause when they hear strange music from between the trees.
Verse:
Diip im Valth vvaa Klosderdal, tha voird man premthen Klan;
Vo Nevvel iap then Svaajen liiid on Nagd virth sdill on lan.
Aan Dridd, aan Vorn, aan Scharren, thann aan pernet, vilthet Liith;
Alt ovv ther Valth telvvsd dansen vill, on niimanth tiivd, ver tviild.
Aan alder Ogt, Vardmud jenannd, sdampd krapdfoll in that Moot;
Thi Jaat, thi Druthe, schlaiid that Vleg, iir Rvydvmut vilth on jrot.
Thi Ilta, aansd ne Koirnerkadsch, kradschd Doine iat Jeaisd;
On Jutha, aane sdolse Jant, tind liad fom Valthetpesd.
Chorus:
Tii tviil'n puir Vinth, puir Tonn on Month, on puir that Sdernenseld;
Iir Liith jeeoird them Valth, tii kuimmern vether Ruum nog Jelth.
On ver thi Pathe laate jeed, mid oppenem Fersdanth;
Ther voird fiir Diire tinen thord, im diipen Aagenlanth.
Verse:
Thi Liude pluisdern laat fon Sdimmen vallen thurg thi Nagd;
On mang aan Kinth laittd Vrod im Moot, mid Vlumen sujethagd.
Thog aanet Dajt kommd Antelm an, aan Vischop, kald on vard;
Er rupd: "Ig draavve iat that Liith, that viir thi Teelen narrd!"
Er schraaded thurg then Dann mid Vug on Riag on Vaavjevved;
Thog ansdadd Tvuk on Schadden thord sdeed for iim that Gvardedd.
Kaan Diupel, kaane Vexen thord, nur Diire, therer fiir;
Thi tajen, on ther Antelm riip: "Oo, Verrjodd, taa vvaa mir!"
Chorus:
Tii tviil'n puir Vinth, puir Tonn on Month, on puir that Sdernenseld;
Iir Liith jeeoird them Valth, tii kuimmern vether Ruum nog Jelth.
On ver thi Pathe laate jeed, mid oppenem Fersdanth;
Ther voird fiir Diire tinen thord, im diipen Aagenlanth.
Verse:
Taad them vvrind man, taid man viud, them Valthe thord Retvekd;
Leid Vrode iap thi Sdaane, thord vo man then Klan endthekd.
Thi Diire tinth ferschvonen svar, iir Pladsch isd unvvevagd;
Thog ver jenia thi Ooren tvidschd voird Tinen in ther Nagd.
Thenn Valth on Liith tinth Vruither, schon to ald vii Nevvelschaan;
On vo that Vers im Dakd nog schlaiid, isd kaaner je allaan.
Fiir Priunthe, thi fersdoten varen, panthen niuen Tinn;
Nigd Thinsd, nigd Pligd, thog Varmonii im Valthetliith tharin.
Chorus:
Tii tviil'n puir Vinth, puir Tonn on Month, on puir that Sdernenseld;
Iir Liith jeeoird them Valth, tii kuimmern vether Ruum nog Jelth.
On ver thi Pathe laate jeed, mid oppenem Fersdanth;
Ther voird fiir Diire tinen thord, im diipen Aagenlanth.
Verse:
Deep in the forest near Klostertal, one hears a strange sound;
Where mist lies on the branches and night grows still and long.
A step, a horn, a scraping, then a distant, wild song;
As if the forest itself wants to dance, and no one sees who plays.
An old ox, called Hartmut, stomps powerfully into the moss;
The goat, named Trude, strikes the metal, her rhythm wild and grand.
Ilsa, once a grain-cat, scratches tones from the branches;
And Guda, a proud goose, sings loudly of the forest festivity.
Chorus:
They play for wind, for sun and moon, and for the starry sky;
Their song belongs to the forest, they care neither for fame nor gold.
And whoever walks the paths quietly, with an open mind;
Hears four animals singing there, in the deep oak-land.
Verse:
The people whisper softly of voices echoing through the night;
And some child leaves bread in the moss, with flowers meant in thought.
But one day Anselm comes along, a bishop, cold and stern;
He shouts: "I will drive out this song, that here deceives the souls!"
He walks through the pinewood with book and smoke and holy prayer;
But instead of spooks and shadows, there before him stands the quartet.
No devil, no witches there, just animals, four in number;
Who speak, and Anselm cries: "Oh Lord, be with me!"
Chorus:
They play for wind, for sun and moon, and for the starry sky;
Their song belongs to the forest, they care neither for fame nor gold.
And whoever walks the paths quietly, with an open mind;
Hears four animals singing there, in the deep oak-land.
Verse:
And since then, they say today, people bring respect to the forest there;
Lay loaves of bread upon the stones, where one discovers the sound.
The animals have vanished, it’s true, their place lies unguarded;
But whoever pricks up their ears will hear singing in the night.
For forest and song are brothers, already as old as misty light;
And where the heart still beats in rhythm, no one is ever alone.
Four friends, who were once cast out, found new meaning;
Not service, not duty, but harmony within the forest song.
Chorus:
They play for wind, for sun and moon, and for the starry sky;
Their song belongs to the forest, they care neither for fame nor gold.
And whoever walks the paths quietly, with an open mind;
Hears four animals singing there, in the deep oak-land.