When they were all deep in slumber, the Dagda took his magic harp, and he and his golden-haired warriors stole softly away, and came in safety to their own homes again.
等他们都睡熟了，达格达拿起魔琴，带着金发战士们悄悄地离开了，平安地回到了他们自己的领地。
Once more the Dagda touched his harp, but very, very softly. And now a music stole forth as soft as dreams, and as sweet as joy: it was the magic Music of Sleep.
当达格达再一次轻轻地触弄他的魔琴时，一种甜蜜、轻柔，如梦似幻的音乐悄悄地流淌出来：这就是美梦的乐音。
The harp answered with the magic Music of Tears.
于是魔琴响起了悲伤的乐音。
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