Pretty cradle of my sorrows

Pretty cradle of my sorrows,

pretty tombstone of my rest,

pretty town - we must part, -

farewell! I call to you.

Farewell, you holy threshhold,

across which my darling would tread;

farewell! you sacred spot

where I first saw her.

Would that I had never seen you,

lovely queen of my heart!

Never would it then have happened,

that I would now be so wretched.

I never wished to touch your heart,

I never begged for love;

all I wished was to lead a quiet life

where your breath could stir me.

Yet you yourself pushed me away from you,

with bitter words at your lips;

Madness filled my senses,

and my heart is sick and wounded.

And my limbs are heavy and sluggish;

I'll drag myself forward, leaning on my staff,

until I can lay my weary head

in a cool and distant grave.