When springtime has achieved victory,
It enters the country overnight:
Everywhere it is sung to
And a new song is brought forward to it,
  But nowhere so beautifully
  And so cheerfully as at the Rhine!

  May the Rhine thunder, may it foam,
Or reflect castles and cathedrals,
Or the hills that border its bank:
Oh! from it, the beautiful river,
  Comes the best song of the singer,
  The song that travels from country to country!

  He who wishes to rejoice, wishes to sing
Truly from the deepest urgings of his heart,
And wishes to bring to the people
A fresh, bold sound:
  Only at the Rhine shall he learn it thoroughly,
  Only at the Rhine in the radiance of springtime!

  Therefore, as long as the Rhine comes a-flowing,
And as long as spring blossoms for it,
And the Rhine itself undaunted
Sings its song into our spirits:
  Songs shall arise to the Rhine,
  In gratitude and praise, and to its honour!

The little brown bumble bee,
It takes a little springtime shopping stroll
In this beautiful world.
It drinks at all the little flowers,
The little monster,
And yet it has no money.

It fills its little body,
By way of passing the time,
And it does not cost it a farthing!
When I go, it immediately costs me a shilling;
I consider that a mistake.
These are evil times!