O mother, the young Prince is to pass by

O mother, the young Prince is to pass by our door, --

how can I attend to my work this morning?

Show me how to braid up my hair;

tell me what garment to put on.

Why do you look at me amazed, mother?

I know well he will not glance up once at my window;

I know he will pass out of my sight in the twinkling of an eye;

only the vanishing strain of the flute

will come sobbing to me from afar.

But the young Prince will pass by our door,

and I will put on my best for the moment.

O mother, the young Prince did pass by our door,

and the morning sun flashed from his chariot.

I swept aside the veil from my face,

I tore the ruby chain from my neck

and flung it in his path.

Why do you look at me amazed, mother?

I know well he did not pick up my chain;

I know it was crushed under his wheels

leaving a red stain upon the dust,

and no one knows what my gift was nor to whom.

But the young Prince did pass by our door,

and I flung the jewel from my breast before his path.