Take the harp down for me, sister,
Give me my hat and walking stick
I cannot stay here any longer!
I have no ancestors, I am just a common lad,
I am not good enough for the noble maid,
I have to hurry away from here immediately.

"Quiet, sister, thank God you are now a bride,
You are going to be married to Wilhelm tomorrow,
You can no longer hold on to me.
Now kiss me, fare, Trude, well!
This heart, full of pain and love,
Let the Lord God protect it."

The minstrel passed through many a land
By the banks of the old Rhine and the Danube,
Crossing over mountains and rivers.
However far he flees, wherever he goes,
He carries the worm with him in his heart
And sings only about her, the sweet one.

And when he could not bear it any longer
He put on a shield and armour,
In order to go into battle with death.
In death there is calm, in the grave there is rest,
The grave covers up heart and desires;
He is determined to ride towards a grave.

Death fled from him and rest fled from him!
The Duke's banner flutters merrily,
Offering a greeting from home,
Surging and resounding back and forth
Came the greetings of friends across sowed fields and through the woods
Along all the roads and footpaths.

Then the armour began to hurt him!
In the early red of dawn the distant snow glowed
On the hills of his homeland;
He felt as if a titanic power were pulling at
His heart, tugging at his breast,
As if he were being strangled here.

Then he could resist no longer:
"I have to see my homeland again,
I have to look at it once more!"
It used the rosy hand of love
To bind his heart to those mountains,
Those majestic, blue mountains!

Then he threw away his shield and weapon,
He threw his equipment into the thorny hedge;
The song rich strings of
His harp alone, praise for his sweetheart,
His lamenting psalm, his shrine,
Would be all that remained behind.

And when winter entered into the land
And frost stopped the streams in their course
He stepped into his mountains.
There it lay, a shroud of ice,
All around it lay white as death,
Like a thousand Titanic coffins!

Within it lay his maternal valley,
The Duke's castle in the evening light
Sheltering Milla within it.
Good luck. The Alpine pilgrims' lodge
Beckons and offers rest to the poor traveller today:
In the morning, minstrel, off to the stronghold!

I cannot rest, I am not at peace,
I really have to go today to the castle 
Where Milla is being sheltered.
"You are stiff, you are pale!" I am mortally ill,
But today is still mine! Death, thank God,
Death will easily find me tomorrow.

Listen to the trotting of mules, listen to the sound of bells!
Coming down from the castle along the mountainside
They are processing by the light of torches.
A knight is leading his betrothed,
He is leading Milla as his bride
And you, minstrel, are already in attendance!

The minstrel watched and sank into himself.
Then bursting and snorting furiously
A werewolf broke through the hedge,
The mules fled, nothing could stop them.
The pony fell. Oh no! Milla sinks
Unconscious onto the roadway.

Then he rose up like lightning
To protect the one he loved so warmly,
High up into the beast's neck
He hurled his dear harp
With such strength that it was shattered when it fell back down
And the jaws and throat were crushed.

And even if he had been as strong as Samson
He would have been exhausted and without any weapon
He could not have resisted the raging beast.
From his breast, from his arm with flesh torn off
His heart's blood poured, with the warmth of love,
He really thought he was about to die.

One look at her, and all his strength
Was called back up, he called on the strength
That had been sleeping, hidden away!
He wrestled with the werewolf, with his arms and hands around it,
And then fell off the cliff
With it into the dizzying depths.

Farewell, minstrel, farewell for ever!
Your heart, full of pain and love
Has found rest in the grave!
The grave is the repose of all pilgrims,
The grave covers up heart and desires,
It provides a cure for all suffering.