I am the shepherd lad from the mountain,
I gaze down upon all the castles.
The sun shines the soonest here,
And it tarries the longest here with me,
[I am the lad from the mountain!]1

Here is the cradle of the river,
I drink from it where it springs freshly from the rocks,
It rushes [along]2 the cliff in a wild torrent,
I catch it in my arms.
I am the lad from the mountain!

[ ... ]

And when the storm-bell ring out sometime in the future,
When many a fire rages upon the mountains,
Then I shall descend and take my place in the ranks
And swing my sword and sing my song:
I am lad from the mountain!

We sat together in the green grove
On a wondrously lovely day in May,
All around the caressing, blissful scent of blossoms,
All around the wafting, spicy [scent of the] spring breeze;
The nightingale sang her sweet love songs.
The lilac bloomed.

"Why do you weep, my love, in such an hour
Where lips are rapturously pressed to lips,
Where round about us everything blooms and emits scent
And within us love glows so blissfully?
And though I must leave, I shall return once more
When the lilac blooms anew!"

And when I returned from a faraway land,
The dear love of my heart I found nevermore.
They led me to a mound,
My poor darling lay within it,
And round about sweet scents wafted downwards.
The lilac bloomed.

The little nimble miller's maid,
To the brook she went in the morning,
    To the brook.
There ran a slender little bird
As nimble as she, as cute and fine,
    Along the brook.
 
"Tell me, you little bird:
Was my beloved already here [today?]1
    At the brook?"
"Your beloved walked past early [this morning] already,
Your neighbour's daughter Gretel was with [him,]2
    At the brook."
 
The little nimble miller's maid,
How she crept back to the mill
    [From]3 the brook!
Forget-me-not and speedwell!
Love, love, is ever new
    At the brook!