Karl I
Charles I
Heine
In the forest, in the woodman’s hut,
The King sits downcast and alone.
He sits rocking the crib of the woodman’s child
And sings in a monotone:
Hush-a bye baby, what’s rustling the hay,
In the barn there’s the bleating of sheep –
You bear the sign upon your brow
And smile frighteningly in your sleep.
Hush-a bye baby, the kitten is dead –
You bear the sign upon your brow -
You’ll be a man and you’ll swing the axe;
The forest oaks quake even now.
The woodmen’s ancient beliefs are gone,
The woodmen’s children believe -
Hush-a bye baby - no more in God,
Still less in what Kings might achieve.
?
The kitten is dead, the mice are at play –
For shame is all we are worth -
Hush-a bye baby - God who’s in heaven
And I who am King here on earth.
My spirit’s weak, my heart is sick
And I grow short of breath -
Hush-a bye baby – You, woodman’s child,
You, I know, will be my death.
My requiem is your lullaby –
Hush-a bye baby - these trailing
Grey locks you will cut off
Before to my neck the iron comes flailing.
Hush-a bye baby, what’s rustling the hay?
For you have acquired the Estate
And will cut off my head from behind my back –
The kitten has met its fate.
Hush-a bye baby, what’s rustling the hay?
In the barn there’s the bleating of sheep,
The kitten is dead, the mice are at play.
Sleep, my executioner, sleep.
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