Das Wandern (Wandering)
Wohin? (Where to?)
Halt! (Halt!)
Danksagung an den Bach (Giving Thanks to the Brook)
Am Feierabend (The Hour of Rest)
Der Neugierige (The Inquisitive One)
Ungeduld (Impatience)
Morgengruß (Morning Greeting)
Des Müllers Blumen (The Miller’s Flowers)
Tränenregen (Rain of Tears)

3. Halt!
I see a mill looking out from the alders;
Through the roaring and singing bursts the clatter of wheels.
Hey, welcome, welcome! Sweet mill-song!
And the house so comfortable! And the windows how clean!
And the sun, how brightly it shines from Heaven!
Hey, brooklet, dear brook, was this, then, what you meant?

5. On the Restful Evening
If only I had a thousand arms to move!
I could loudly drive the wheels!
I could blow through all the groves!
I could turn all the stones!
If only the beautiful Millermaid would notice my faithful thoughts!
Ah, why is my arm so weak?
What I lift, what I carry, what I cut,
What I beat, every lad does it just as well as I do.
And there I sit in the great gathering,
In the quiet, cool hour of rest,
And the master speaks to us all: Your work has pleased me;
And the lovely maiden says "Good night" to everyone.

Good morning, beautiful millermaid!
Why do you so promptly turn your little head,
As if something has happened to you?
Do you dislike my greetings so profoundly?
Does my glance disturb you so much?
Then I must go on again.

O let me only stand from afar,
Watching your dear window,
From afar, from quite far away!
Your blonde little head, come out!
Come out from your round gate,
You blue morning stars!

You slumber-drunk little eyes,
You flowers, troubled with dew,
Why do you shy from the sun?
Has night been so good to you
That you close and bow and weep
for her quiet joy?

Now shake off the gauze of dreams
And rise, fresh and free
in God's bright morning!
The lark warbles in the sky;
And from the heart's depths,
Love calls away suffering and worries.

9. Des Müllers Blumen
Am Bach viel kleine Blumen stehn,
Aus hellen blauen Augen sehn;
Der Bach, der ist des Müllers Freund,
Und hellblau Liebchens Auge scheint,
Drum sind es meine Blumen.

Dicht unter ihrem Fensterlein,
Da will ich pflanzen die Blumen ein,
Da ruft ihr zu, wenn alles schweigt,
Wenn sich ihr Haupt zum Schlummer neigt,
Ihr wißt ja, was ich meine.
Und wenn sie tät die Äuglein zu
Und schläft in süßer, süßer Ruh,
Dann lispelt als ein Traumgesicht
Ihr zu: Vergiß, vergiß mein nicht!
Das ist es, was ich meine.

Und schließt sie früh die Laden auf,
Dann schaut mit Liebesblick hinauf:
Der Tau in euren Äugelein,
Das sollen meine Tränen sein,
Die will ich auf euch weinen.

9. The Miller’s Flowers
By the brook, many small flowers stand;
Out of bright blue eyes they look;
The brook - it is the miller's friend, -
And light blue shine my darling's eyes;
therefor, these are my flowers.

Right under her little window,
There will I plant these flowers,
There will you call to her when everything is quiet,
When her head leans to slumber,
You know what I intend you to say!
And when she closes her little eyes,
And sleeps in sweet sweet rest,
Then whisper, like a dreamy vision:
Forget, forget me not!
That is what I mean.

And early in the morning, when she opens the shutters up,
then look up with a loving gaze:
The dew in your little eyes
shall be my tears,
which I will shed upon you.

10. Rain of Tears
We sat so comfortably together under the cool roof of alders,
We gazed so quietly together down into the murmuring brook.


The moon was already out, the stars after her,
And we gazed so quietly together in the silver mirror there.
I sought to see no moon, nor the star's shine;
I looked only at her image,
at her eyes alone.

And I saw her reflection nod and gaze up from the blissful brook,
The flowerlets on the bank, the blue ones, nodded and gazed right back.
And into the brook seemed sunken the entire heavens;
And seemed to want to pull me under into its depths as well.

And over the clouds and stars there murmured the brook
And called with singing and ringing: Fellow, follow me!
Then my eyes filled with tears, and made the mirror ripple:
She spoke: "The rain comes, Farewell, I am going home."

All you little flowers, that she gave me,
You shall lie with me in my grave.

Why do you all look at me so sadly,
As if you had known what would happen to me?

You little flowers all, how wilted, how pale!
You little flowers all, why so moist?

Ah, tears will not make the green of May,
Will not make dead love bloom again.

And Spring will come, and Winter will go,
And flowers will grow in the grass.

And flowers will lie in my grave,
all the flowers that she gave me.

And when she wanders past the hill
And thinks in her heart: His feelings were true!

Then, all you little flowers, Come out, come out,
May has come, Winter is over.

The Miller:
Where a true heart wastes away in love,
There wilt the lilies in every bed;
Then into the clouds must the full moon go,
So that her tears men do not see;
Then angels shut their eyes
And sob and sing to rest the soul.

The Brook:
And when Love conquers pain,
a little star, a new one, shines in Heaven;
three roses, half red and half white,
which never wilt, spring up on thorny stalks.
And the angels cut their wings right off
and go every morning down to Earth.

The Miller:
Ah, brooklet, dear brook, you mean it so well,
Ah, brooklet, but do you know, what love does?
Ah, under, yes under, is cool rest!
Ah, brooklet, dear brook, please just sing on.