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In der Ferne geht sein Nachen, Und sein Netze blinkt. Mag er treulos meiner lachen, Wenn sie drüben winkt. Dort im Laub die wilden Tauben Kennen Falschheit nicht, Mag die Dirne alles glauben, Was er ihr verspricht. Mag er heißen sie sein Liebchen, Wie er's mit mir trieb, - Komm, mein krankes, bleiches Bübchen, Komm, es wird so trüb.
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This text was added to the website: 2011-08-29
Line count: 12
Word count: 60
In the distance I see his barque moving, And his net glistens. May he laugh at me faithlessly, When she beckons yonder. There in the foliage the wild doves Know not falsity; May that lass believe everything That he promises her. May he call her his beloved, As he called me, - Come, my sickly, pale little boy, Come, it is growing so dark.
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This text was added to the website: 2015-11-25
Line count: 12
Word count: 64
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