Where to?

Die Schöne Müllerin The Miller's pretty Daughter


I heard a brook, it was rushing,
Gushing from its rocky source
Deep down into the valley,
A bright, fresh, wondrous force.

I can’t think what came over me,
Or what anyone may have said,
But I had to go down after it
To find out where it led.

Down I went and further
Always following the brook
As it rushed down on its way,
So bright and clear its look.

Is this the road to follow?
Where am I being led?
Your noisy, ceaseless babbling
Has befuddled my poor head!

Why do I speak of babbling,
What a strange word to say!
The water-nymphs are dancing,
Singing their roundelay.

Leave them, my friend, to sing and dance,
Just you go on your way,
Go on the way that mill-wheels do
Below the pool all day.