Language: German (Deutsch)
Our translations: ENG ENG FRE ITA LIT
In einem kühlen Grunde
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
weit in die Welt hinaus,
und singen meine Weisen
und gehn von Haus zu Haus.
Ich möcht' als Reiter fliegen
wohl in die blut'ge Schlacht,
um stille Feuer liegen
Im Feld bei dunkler Nacht.
Hör' ich das Mühlrad gehen,
Ich 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:
Text Authorship:
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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: English  after the German (Deutsch)
Down there in verdant meadows,
a mill wheel turns around.
My true love's turned to shadows
whom at the mill I found.
Gave me a ring as token
of love forever true;
her promise she has broken,
the ringlet rent in two.
As troubadour I'll wander
the world without a frown,
I'll sing my songs and ponder
and roam from town to town.
As horseman I will fly in
the battle's bloody fight,
round fires I will lie in
the fields in dark of night.
Hear I the mill wheel sighing?
I know not what to will.
I will that I was dying,
then everything were still.
Text Authorship:
Based on:
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This text was added to the website: 2010-03-26
Line count: 20
Word count: 107