Whirr in a circle, my spindle,
Turn without pause!
Burial shroud and child's diaper
And the bridal bed, you equip them all.

Golden thread, I cannot say
What fate has been determined for you,
Whether with happiness, whether with lamenting
The spun yarn shall end.

It can be different than we began it,
It can turn out differently from what he hoped;
That which was spun for a wedding
Often became a shroud.

Whirr, spindle, whirr quietly,
Happiness is as round as a wheel; 
If you blissfully set out on a journey,
You may well return weeping.

The sun goes into the clouds,
The wind quickly dissipates a word;
Like a thread, bliss rolls,
Love and faithfulness roll away.

Whirr in a circle, my spindle,
Turn with out pause and rest!
And ye tears, flow quietly,
Flow unstoppably on!