There were three lovely maidens,
They all loved the same boy,
And each dearly wanted to have
Him as her lover alone.

Early in the morning the first one came,
She had picked a rose for him,
But as he took it in his hand,
He was pricked by a thorn.

“Woe! your love harbours secret sorrow,
It will behave like thorns,
Take another, you maiden of roses,
We cannot be happy together[.]”

The second one came at high noon
And to woo him brought
A little golden ring, but it soon
Lay in shards upon the stone floor.

 “Everything that glitters is not gold,
Your faithfulness is not real,
It is like a ring that has been welded of glass,
It will create only rue for you and me.”

The third came when it was getting dark:
“I have nothing to give you,
But for all time I offer you
My heart and my life.”

In the last glow of twilight he saw
Two bright tears blinking,
In his quiet chamber he felt
Her sink against his breast.

He pressed her to his heart, he was compelled
To embrace her with his whole soul,
He held her tightly and never again
Did he let her go from him.