Trockne Blumen
Dry flowers

Die Schöne Müllerin The Miller's pretty Daughter


You, all the flowers
She ever gave
Shall lie here with me
In my grave.

Why, when you look,
Are you so sad
As if you knew
What fate I’d had?

All you flowers
So limp and pale,
What has soaked
And made you frail?

Ah, tears won’t make
Spring green the plain,
Nor love that’s died
To bloom again.

And spring will come
And winter go,
And in the meadow
Flowers will grow.

And flowers will lie
Here in my grave,
All the flowers
She ever gave.

And when she walks here
Past the mound,
When her heart says,
His love was sound,

Then all you flowers,
Come on! Come on!
May is here,
The winter’s gone!