by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796)
Translation by (Johann) Philipp Kaufmann (1802 - 1846)

O my Luve's like a red, red rose
Language: Scottish (Scots) 
Our translations:  FRE GRE IRI
O my [Luve's]1 like a red, red rose 
  That's newly sprung in June: 
O my [Luve's]1 like the melodie 
  That's sweetly play'd in tune. 

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, 
  [So]2 deep in luve am I: 
And I will luve thee still, my dear, 
  Till a' the seas gang dry: 

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, 
  And the rocks melt wi' the sun; 
I will luve thee still, my dear, 
  While the sands o' life shall run. 

And fare thee weel, my only Luve! 
  And fare thee weel a while! 
And I will come again, my Luve, 
  Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

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Note: due to a similarity in first lines, Berg's song O wär' mein Lieb' jen' Röslein roth is often erroneously indicated as a translation of this poem.

1 Beach and Scott: "Luve is"; Bacon: "love's"
2 Scott: "Sae"

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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • SWG Swiss German (Schwizerdütsch) (August Corrodi) , "Min schatz ist wienes Röseli", first published 1870
  • CZE Czech (Čeština) (Josef Václav Sládek) , "Má milá jest jak růžička"
  • FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , copyright © 2019, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GRE Greek (Ελληνικά) [singable] (Christakis Poumbouris) , "Η π’ αγαπώ ’ναι ρόδο ροζ", copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • HUN Hungarian (Magyar) (József Lévay) , "Szerelmem, mint piros rózsa..."
  • IRI Irish (Gaelic) [singable] (Gabriel Rosenstock) , copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Iain Sneddon [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 109

Mein Schatz ist eine rote Ros'
 (Sung text for setting by J. Rheinberger)
 See original
Language: German (Deutsch)  after the Scottish (Scots) 
Mein Schatz ist eine rote Ros',
Im holden Mai erblüht;
Mein Lieb ist eine Melodie,
Von der die Seele glüht.

Und wie schön bist du, geliebte Maid!
Wie wird das Herz mir schwer!
Und lieben wird's dich immerdar,
Bis trocken wird das Meer.

Bis alle Meere trocken sind,
Die Sonne schmilzt den Stein,
Will lieben ich dich, holdes Kind!
Aus ganzem Herzen mein.

Leb wohl! leb wohl! mein einzig Lieb,
Leb wohl auf kurze Zeit.
Ich komme, komme bald, mein Lieb,
Wär's tausend Meilen weit!

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Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2009-05-19
Line count: 16
Word count: 96