Language: German (Deutsch)
Our translations: ENG ENG FRE ITA LIT
In jenem Tale dort unten
da geht ein Mühlenrad,
mein Liebchen ist verschwunden,
das dort gewohnet hat.
Sie hat mir Treue versprochen,
gab mir einen Ring dabei,
sie hat die Treue gebrochen,
das Ringlein sprang entzwei.
Ich möcht' als Spielmann reisen
wohl in die Welt hinaus,
und singen meine Weisen
und zieh'n von Haus zu Haus.
Ich möcht' als Reiter fliegen
wohl in die blut'ge Schlacht,
an stillem Feuer liegen
einsam bei kühler Nacht.
Ich hör das Mühlrad gehen,
und weiß nicht, was ich will,
Ich möcht' am liebsten sterben,
Dann wär's auf einmal still.
Note: Kreutzer's version is sometimes erroneously credited to Uhland. The original poem is also sometimes titled "Untreue" and substitutes "Liebste" for "Liebchen" in line 1-3.
Composition:
Set to music by Conradin Kreutzer (1780 - 1849), "Das Mühlrad" [ voice, clarinet, piano ]
Text Authorship:
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Emily Ezust) , no title, copyright ©
- ENG English [singable] (Walter A. Aue) , "The mill wheel (The broken ringlet)", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Dans une froide vallée", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ITA Italian (Italiano) (Amelia Maria Imbarrato) , "La ruota del mulino", copyright © 2005, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- LIT Lithuanian (Lietuvių kalba) (Giedrius Prunskus) , copyright © 2022, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust
[Administrator] , Laura Stanfield Prichard
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 20
Word count: 103
Language: Italian (Italiano)  after the German (Deutsch)
In quella valle, laggiù,
gira la ruota d'un mulino,
la mia bella è scomparsa,
che abitava là.
Lei mi ha giurato fede,
mi ha dato un anello,
ma ha rotto la promessa,
l'anellino è spezzato.
Vorrei essere un cantore errante,
andare per il mondo
a cantare le mie melodie
di casa in casa.
Vorrei essere un cavaliere,
correre nella battaglia cruenta,
e giacere solo, nella fredda notte,
davanti a un tacito fuoco.
Sento la ruota d'un mulino che gira,
e non so che voglio.
Meglio di tutto, vorrei morire,
almeno così avrei pace!
Text Authorship:
Based on:
Go to the general single-text view
This text was added to the website: 2005-10-17
Line count: 20
Word count: 93