My pretty castle valley, now much a riverbed,
Where Daugava and Perse sweet embrace,
That I might do the same with my lover, who was slain,
Then I shall wait herein this sacred place.
A gardener’s wife I be, better than was chose for me,
Such woeful man loves lordship not a heart,
If not in life we wed then this valley be our bed,
In death my love will never be apart.
Whilst I lament my lover, I shall mourn at willow banks,
For I am but a widow, simple true,
My faith shall be my ring; I shall brush my hair and sing,
But I’ll not forgive the soulless men who slew.
You slay within my gaze, your blade so pierced my heart,
Then from the walls I wail as I will leap,
Your castle is your tomb, you too will meet your doom,
Whilst my lover in my arms will gentle sleep.
The maiden wanders still; she rests to brush her hair,
Not far from where they struck the final blow,
But together come what may, ever since that dreadful day,
Where Daugava and Perse gentle flow.
Legend has it that the maid of Koknese Castle, when she pledged her heart to the keep’s gardener, incurred the wrath of the fortress Lord. For her to give herself to a commoner was unheard of. Her lover was slain in front of her eyes. Wailing in grief, she climbed to the highest ramparts from where she leapt to her death
From that day to this the maid with long tresses can be seen sitting on the Daugava River banks, often seen brushing her hair. When approached she runs away but if a wanderer is fearful at the sight of the apparition and turns away from her, she follows in the forlorn hope that the person is her lover. Michael (Walsh 26.10.13)