The trout

In a bright little brook

there shot in merry haste

a capricious trout:

past it shot like an arrow.

I stood upon the shore

and watched in sweet peace

the cheery fish's bath

in the clear little brook.

A fisher with his rod

stood at the water-side,

and watched with cold blood

as the fish swam about.

So long as the clearness of the water

remained intact, I thought,

he would not be able to capture the trout

with his fishing rod.

But suddenly the thief grew weary

of waiting. He stirred up

the brook and made it muddy,

and before I realized it,

his fishing rod was twitching:

the fish was squirming there,

and with raging blood I

gazed at the deceived fish.

At the golden fountain

of youth, you linger so confidently;

But think of the trout,

and if you see danger, flee!

Mostly it is from lack

of cleverness that maidens

miss the angling seducers.

So beware! otherwise you may bleed too late!