Ritt auf ungerittnem Rosse,
Und es trug mich zur Walachin.
Ihr zur Seite stehn drei Mädchen,
Schalt mit Einer leis' die Mutter:
"Hündin Nera, sprich, wo warst du?" --
"Schelte nicht, o meine Mutter!
An der Donau war ich, Mutter!
Sahe dorten junge Deutsche,
Aber einen Deutschen sah ich,
Wollte der mein Schwäher werden,
Gäb' ich ihm ein feines Hemdlein,
Daß sein Lebetag er's trüge!
Einen andren Deutschen sah ich,
Wollt' er mich zur Hochzeit führen,
Gäb' ich ihm ein goldnes Tüchlein,
Daß sein Lebetag er's trüge!
Einen dritten Deutschen sah ich,
Wollte der mein Liebster werden,
Gäb' ihm meine schwarzen Augen,
Daß sein Lebetag er sie küsse!"
H. von Herzogenberg sets lines 6-20
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Text Authorship:
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Research team for this page: Claus-Christian Schuster
[Guest Editor] , Sharon Krebs
[Senior Associate Editor]This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 20
Word count: 115
I rode upon a horse that had never been ridden before,
And it carried me to the Walachian.
At her side stand three maidens,
The mother quietly chiding one of them:
"Bitch Nera, speak, where were you?" --
"Do not scold, oh my mother!
I was at the Danube, mother!
There I saw young Germans,
But one German I saw,
He wanted to become my brother-in-law
If I gave him a fine shirt,
To wear all the days of his life!
Another German I saw,
He wished to lead me to the altar,
If I gave him a golden kerchief
To wear all the days of his life!
A third German I saw,
He wished to become my lover,
If I gave him my dark eyes,
That he might kiss them all the days of his life!"
