Der Müller und der Bach
The Miller and the Brook

Die Schöne Müllerin The Miller's pretty Daughter


The Miller:
When a truly loving heart fails in despair,
White lilies wither everywhere,
The full moon finds dense cloud to hide
From men the tears that cannot be denied,
And angels close their eyes to weep
And sob and sing this soul to sleep.

The Stream:
Whenever love breaks free from pain,
A new star shines up in the sky,
Roses three, half red, half white,
From thorn will shoot, nor fade from sight,
And angels will discard their wings
To come to earth when sun the morning brings.

The Miller:
Ah stream, dear stream, you mean so well,
But do you know the measure of love’s pain?
Down there below is cool repose.
Ah stream, do sing your song again.