mersiowsky - 2-10-2014 at 06:06 PM
Translated by Joel R. Meador
“Good evening, my dear mother!
Where is your little daughter?
Trudlajdu, talala
Where is your little daughter?”
“The daughter is no longer at home,
She lies in the darkness of the grave,
Trudladju, talala,
She lies in the darkness of the grave.”
The young man overturns the rose bushes,
While riding quietly to the church yard.
Trudladju, talala,
While riding quietly to the church yard.
Three times he rode around the church yard,
Stood at the grave and sighed heavily,
Trudlajdu, talala,
Stood at the grave and sighed heavily.
“Oh, my love, what has come over you,
That you have been smitten by me,|
Trudlajdu, talala,
That you have been smitten by me?”
“What am I supposed to do in this world,
Where everything lies in wait for me,
Trudlajdu, talala,
Where everything lies in wait for me.”
The young man turns through the roses,
Riding forth so still and calmly,
Trudlajdu, talala,
Riding forth so still and calmly.
The roses burst out in bloom,
The young man breaks down weeping,
Trudlajdu, talala,
The young man breaks down weeping.
“Do not weep, my love,
There is still more than Mägdelein,
Trudlajdu, talala,
There is still more than Mägdelein.”
“There are probably more girls than this one,
But, as you know, there are not,
Trudlajdu, talala,
But, as you know, there are not.”
Attachment: The Graveside Visit.mp3 (917kB)
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