Ah, how I miss it - it is no longer here,
 What once so sweetly made me happy;
 Ah, how I miss it - it is no longer here,
 What once delighted me!
 What once so sweetly made me happy,
 Has, like an ocean wave, passed by.
 Ah, how I miss it - it is no longer here,
 What once delighted me!

 Tell me how one can till the soil 
 Without a plough, without a horse?
 Tell me how one can till the soil
 When the wheel breaks?
 Ah, such is ploughing,
 And such is love also;
 Such is love,
 If one does not kiss!

They force me to do things
 That only fill me with distress;
 They force on me
 Only what causes me pain:
 They're giving me to a widower,
 Whose heart is not whole:
 Half of him is his first wife's,
  Half only would be mine!

O cliff, dear cliff,
Why did you not collapse
When I had to part
From my Beloved?

Let it get dark, God, let twilight fall,
So that soon evening will beckon
And so that my life will also soon
Sink into dusk!

O nightingale, you dear,
O sing in the green grove,
Make my heart easy,
And relieve my heart's pain!

My heart, it lies stiffening
To stone in my breast,
It finds here on earth
Nothing, nothing to give it pleasure.

I am engaged to another man,
And love him not;
I do what my father
And my mother say.

I obey my father's
And my mother's words,
Yet hot tears without end
Does my heart weep.

Alas, sorrow keeps me prisoner,
My heart is so sore,
For I must go forth from this place
Over yonder mountain height!

What once was mine is lost,
All, all hope has fled.
Yes, I fear, maiden, that
My eyes will never rest on you again.

Dark will the path stretch before me,
When I must go from here:
When I then stand upon that mountain,
I will sigh once more for you.

 Oh, if only my father did not sulk, in both wakefulness and sleep,
 I would tell him whom I met in the little garden.
 But just keep sulking, Father, sulk away;
 I met my beloved in that little garden there.

 Oh, if only my father weren't so quarrelsome,
 I would tell him what my beloved gave to me.
 But just keep being quarrelsome, Father, my dear father you,
 He gave me a little kiss and another in addition.

 Oh, if it did not sound so astonishing to my father's ears,
 I would tell him what my beloved swore.
 But be astonished, Father, and be astonished again:
 You will nevertheless give me to him one day with joy.

 My beloved swore to me so firmly and certainly,
 Before he tore himself from my embrace:
 I would remain at home only until
 The wheat-seeds sprout merrily in the fields.

I beat the drum roll loudly so
It shakes you up from head to toe!
Reminds me of my darling dear;
"Blue-gray, 
blue,
blue-gray,
blue"
shine his eyes so clear.

And when I recall how they shine so bright,
All by itself the drum becomes light,
The wild drum tone rings clear to the skies:
"Blue-gray, 
blue,
blue-gray,
blue" 
my beloved's eyes.

 I call from the shore
 To my lost happiness;
 Only the sound of the oars
 Echoes back to the beach.

 From the beach, dear mother,
 Where the pounding waves go,
 There sail the ships:
 My beloved is on one of them. 
 The more I call,
 The faster they run.
 If a wind carries them off,
 Who could protect them?
 The breath of my lament
 Only swells the sails,
 The more my yearning
 Would hold them back!
 If I held back my laments,
 My sorrow would release them,
 So between lamenting and keeping silent
 My heart is torn.

I call from the shore
 To my lost happiness;
 Only the sound of the oars
 Echoes back to the beach.

 Such volatile castles:
 Who could trust them,
 And build Love, a lasting one,
 Upon them with joy?
 Like birds in flight,
 Where do they rest?
 Such hurried wanderers,
 They find no home,
 Troubling the waves
 Of green crystal;
  And what they disturb
 Is transformed entirely.
 The waves move on,
 And the wind blows on;
 Only the agony in my heart
 Remains unchanging.

I call from the shore
To my lost happiness;
Only the sound of the oars
Echoes back to the beach.

Across the sea,
Far across the sea,
My sweetheart has gone;
My heart is
Full of sorrow and woe,
And it has flown after him fearfully.

The sea storms,
Wildly storms the sea;
Tempests chase darkly,
The sun sinks,
The world becomes empty,
And my heart despairs.

I am alone,
Ah, ever alone;
My strength is vanishing,
And I must go back
In feeble pain,
For I can never find you.

If my dear one sings like a finch,
I sing a nightingale's song.
If my lover's a fox, 
I'm a snake!

O ye virgins in the country,
From the mountains and across the sea,
If you don't want to hurt me
Leave the most beautiful man to me!

He shall give himself up
to us for fame and fortune
And not worry,
neither loudly nor softly!

O dear playmates, 
leave the proud man to me!
He shall see how love
can be a fiery sword!

The mother calls, calls to her daughter
Across three mountains:
"Is, o Mara, dear daughter,
The linen bleached?"
Back to her, the young daughter calls
Across nine mountains:
"Nothing is in the water, dear mother,
I haven't dipped the linen yet
For, you see, Jawo has
Muddied the water.
How, then, o dear mother,
Could I have bleached it?
Curse him, mother, dear mother!
I will curse him too.
May God in bright heaven grant
That he might hang himself
On a terrible little tree...
On my white neck!
May God in bright heaven grant
That he might lie imprisoned,
Imprisoned deep in a dungeon...
On my white breast!
May God grant, o lord in heaven,
That he might wear chains -
Wear chains tightly about him...
My white arms!
May God in bright heaven grant,
That the waters might seize him -
That the wild waters might seize him...
And bring him to my house!"