My mother recently scolded me
And warned me sternly about love;
"It has," she said, "demanded recompense from every girl;
Lost is whomever love ensnares."
Therefore it is better, I think,
If neither of us speaks of it again;
I am still forever yours -
But love you, Hans, I cannot!

Before all else, Hans, never forget,
That you are to love only me.
My smiles must always be your delight,
And the smiles of every other girl a burden!
Yes, in order to obey my mother,
Faithful to the double duty, I will
Constantly strive to please you,
But love you, Hans, I cannot!

At every one of our festivals,
It shall be my greatest pleasure
If your hand weaves the gifts of spring [flowers]
As an adornment into my bodice.
When the dance begins, then, as appropriate,
A dance with Gretchen is your duty.
Even jealous shall I become,
But love you, Hans, I cannot!

And when the evening sinks in coolness
And we rest then quite mildly moved,
You must always place your hand upon my bodice
And feel how my little heart is pounding!
And if you wish to teach me through kisses
What your eye speaks mutely to me,
Even that I will not prevent you from doing,
But love you, Hans, I cannot!

 With you alone I feel that I am alive,
 that a spirit of youth swells within me,
 that a jovial world
 of love surges through me;
 I rejoice in my existence
 with you alone!
 
 With you alone does the breeze feel so refreshing,
 the meadow so green,
 the blooming Spring so balmy,
 the evening so richly fragrant,
 the grove so cool; 
 with you alone!
 
 With you alone, pain loses its bitterness
 and joy yields such pleasure!
 You safeguard the 
 ancient heritage of my heart;
 I feel I am myself
 with you alone!

Men are faithless, you told me, mother:
He's a young rascal! 
I wouldn't believe you 
Until I had tormented myself sick.
Yes, now I know he really is, 
I'd simply misjudged him. 
You told me, mother: 
'Men are faithless!' 

Yesterday, as dusk fell silently, 
In the grove outside the village 
I heard a whispered 'Good evening!' 
And a whispered 'Many thanks!' 
I crept up and listened, 
Stood there as if transfixed: 
It was he, with another - 
'Men are faithless!'

O mother, what torture! 
It must be said, it must! 
It didn't just stop at whispering, 
It didn't just stop at greetings! 
From greetings it went to kisses,
From kisses to holding hands,
From holding hands . . . ah, dear mother, 
'Men are faithless!'

So many people look on with a grim expression
As they complain about the wide world,
Life's miraculous stage
Lies in vain before them.
Yet I know better how to behave,
And far be it from me to be ashamed of joy,
I enjoy the moment with delight:
Surely that is something that counts as happiness.

I have attracted many a heart
Yet my triumph did not last long,
For silliness has often spoiled for me
What my cheerful attitude led me to attain.
I have therefore also escaped from the net;
Since, because no illusion held me hostage
I did not return to any of them:
And surely that is something that counts as happiness!

No laurels garlanded my locks,
No halo shone around my head;
Yet nevertheless what I have achieved is not in vain;
A quiet 'thank you' is also a garland!
To those who are far away from saucy flights
The quiet joys of the valley are sufficient,
Neither do they need to worry about saving their necks:
And surely that is something that counts as happiness!

And when the ambassador from those realms calls
One day, as he will for everyone, with a serious and cavernous voice,
Then I shall willingly say, as I leave,
To the beautiful earth, "Farewell!"
So let it be, since at the end we shall hold
Hands, faithful hands of friends will be held out to me,
And in this way I shall be blessed by the eyes of friends:
And that, brothers, is surely something that counts as happiness!