Die Laute Klage
The Noisy Complaint


O Turtledove, you complain so loud
As to rob a poor man of his sole comfort;
Sweet, oblivious sleep!
Turtledove, I am wretched just like you
And conceal my misery within my aching heart,
My tight-locked breast.
How harshly Love disposes!
You, for consolation, were given that noisy distress-call,
To me, she gave speech-robbing grief!