I know seven merry brothers,
They are the thirstiest ones in the village;
They vowed solemnly, never again
To utter a certain word,
In no fashion whatsoever,
Not loudly and not quietly.

It is the good little word “water”,
In which otherwise no evil dwells.
How is it then, that these wild wastrels
Are so mightily frightened by this simple word?
Listen up!  I shall relate
This wondrous tale.

Once upon a time those thirsty seven
Heard from an unknown drinking companion
That along the forested mountains yonder
A new tavern had opened,
Where flowed such pure,
Such flavourful wines.

For the sake of a good sermon
None of them would have moved from their place;
But when it concerns filling the glasses well,
The lads are immediately roused.
“Get up, let us wander!”
One calls to the other.

They wander lustily in the early morning,
Soon the sun rises, oppressively hot,
Their tongues are parched, their lips are burning,
From their brows runs sweat.
Lo, from the crag there trickles
So brightly a water-spring.

How they drink in great gulps!
But they have barely slaked their thirst,
When they aver their displeasure
That here not wine, but water bubbles forth:
“O insipid drink!
O pathetic exchange!”

The forest now swallows the pilgrims
Up into its intertwined paths;
Suddenly they find themselves standing in the crush [of the trees]
Tortuous thickets prevent their continuing.
They stray about, they search,
They bicker and curse.

In the meantime the humid sun has
Hidden itself in dark storms;
Already the rain is rustling through the leaves,
Lightning flashes, thunder roars;
Then it comes flowing down,
Unendingly pouring forth.

Soon the forest becomes a thousand islands,
Countless rivers burst forth;
No raging helps in this situation, no whimpering,
The noble lads must simply get through it.
O thorough baptism!
O precious dunking!

In olden times humans were
Often transformed into springs and rivers;
Our seven poor sinners, too,
Are threatened by the same resolve of the gods.
They drip, they swell,
As if they were become water-springs.

Thus, more swimming than walking,
They make it out of the forest;
But they see no tavern resplendent before them,
They are on the path that leads straight home;
Already from the crag there trickles
So brightly the water-spring.

Suddenly it seems as if it were speaking in its trickling:
“Welcome, you tidy collection of brothers!
You idiotic impertinent ones, you railed
Against my water that refreshed you.
Now you are soaked,
So that you remember it!”

Thus it transpired that the seven brothers
Feared water ever after,
And that they vowed, never again
To utter that confounded word,
In no fashion whatsoever,
Not loudly and not quietly.