German Folk Song

I HEARD a sickle rustling,
A-rustling through the grain,
I heard a maid lamenting,
That she had lost her swain.

“Dear, let it rustle, rustle!
I heed not, how it goes:
For I have won a lover,
Where the green clover grows.”

“And hast thou won a lover,
Where thyme and clover grow:
Then I stand here so lonely,
My heart is sore with woe!”


16th century. Translation by Margarete Münsterberg, first published 1916.

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