English translations of Romanzen und Balladen für Chor (Heft 1), opus 67

There was a King of Thule,
faithful to the grave,
to whom his dying beloved
gave a golden goblet.

Nothing was more valuable to him:
he drained it in every feast;
and his eyes would overflow
whenever he drank from it.

And when he neared death,
he counted the cities of his realm
and left everything gladly to his heir -
except for the goblet.

He sat at his kingly feast,
his knights about him,
in the lofty hall of ancestors,
there in the castle by the sea.

There, the old wine-lover stood,
took a last draught of life's fire,
and hurled the sacred goblet
down into the waters.

He watched it plunge, fill up,
and sink deep into the sea.
His eyes then sank closed
and he drank not one drop more.

 What is King Ringang's daughter called?
 Rohtraut, pretty Rohtraut.
 What does she do the whole day long,
 since she probably doesn't spin or sew?
 She hunts and fishes.
 O that I were her hunter!
 I love hunting and fishing.
 Be silent, my heart!
 
 And after a little while,
 Rohtraut, pretty Rohtraut,
 so serves the boy in Ringang's castle
 in hunter's clothes and with a horse,
 to go hunting with Rohtraut:
 O that I were the King's son!
 Rohtraut, pretty Rohtraut, I love so much.
 Be silent, my heart!
 
 At first they rest by the oak tree,
 Rohtraut, pretty Rohtraut:
 Why do you look at me so wonderingly?
 If you have a heart, kiss me!
 Oh! the boy was startled!
 But he thought, I'm permitted,
 an kissed pretty Rohtraut on the lips.
 Be silent, my heart!
 
 After that they rode home in silence,
 Rohtraut, pretty Rohtraut;
 the boy rejoiced to himself;
 And if you became Empress today,
 I'd not grieve
 Thousands of your leaves in the forest know,
 I've kissed pretty Rohtraut's lips!
 Be silent, my heart!

Passing lad a rose blossom spied,
Blossom on the heath growing,
'Twas so fair and of youthful pride,
Raced he fast to be near its side,
Saw it with joy o'erflowing.
Blossom, blossom, blossom red,
Blossom on the heath growing.

Said the lad: I shall pick thee,
Blossom on the heath growing!
Blossom spoke: Then I'll prick thee,
That thou shalt ever think of me,
And I'll not be allowing.
Blossom, blossom, blossom red,
Blossom on the heath growing.

And the lusty lad did pick
The blossom on the heath growing;
Blossom, in defense, did prick,
'Twas, alas, but a harmless nick,
Had to be allowing.
Blossom, blossom, blossom red,
Blossom on the heath growing.

Upon the high battlements of the castle
   The old king stood,
And sombrely gazed upon
   The drearily cloud-covered land.
 
The tempest drew nigh
   With fearsome force.
He braced his right hand
   Upon the pommel of his sword.
 
His left hand, from which already
   The golden sceptre had fallen,
Still supported upon his glowering brow
   The heavy golden crown.
 
His mistress tugged gently
   At the hem of his robe:
You loved me once,
   [I presume] you hardly love me anymore?
 
What is love and passion and courtly love?
   Leave off, you sweet woman!
A tempest draws nigh
   With fearsome force.
 
Upon the castle battlements I am
   No longer king with sword and crown,
I am the powerless, anxious son
   Of the turbulent times.
 
What is love and passion and courtly love?
   Leave off, you sweet woman!
A tempest draws nigh
   With fearsome force.

  John Anderson, my love, [John]1!
We have seen each other,
How raven-black your hair, [John]1,
Your brow smooth and handsome:
Now neither smoothness nor curl, [John]1,
Has remained to your handsome brow:
But may God bless your snowy head,
John Anderson, my love!

  John Anderson, my love, [John]1!
We climbed happily uphill,
And many a bright day, [John]1,
We greeted upon our journey.
Now downhill hand in hand, [John]1,
As joyfully as we strove uphill,
And at the foot of the hill, blessed sleep,
John Anderson, my love!