My father says: One might think
that the devil's at work there;
Why on earth do you hang out
in the mill day by day?

My mother says: The clattering there
is something I know you don't like.
When I spin you complain of the noise of the wheel,
and though - you stay in the mill continuously!

My brother says: Well, if it were summer,
I'd understand it, it's quite cool there,
but in winter, I have no idea -
what are you doing in the mill?

My sister says: I've got it,
I know already, what he's interested in:
The miller has a good ale,
that's why he's always sitting there.

And I say nothing, not a word,
I'm silent like a mouse.
Look, it's the pretty mill-maiden,
that makes me go to the mill with pleasure!