Die Schöne Müllerin The Miller's pretty Daughter


Brook, now quit your babbling.
You wheels, you stop your gabbling
And birds both large and small,
Cease your warbling one and all.
For on this day one song alone
Shall sound throughout the land –
The Miller’s daughter now is mine,
She’s mine!

Spring, have you no other flowers?
Sun, won’t you increase your powers?
So then, I’m left alone,
Alone in this rapturous state,
Alone to celebrate my fate.