Ja, du bist elend, und ich grolle nicht

Yes, thou art wretched, and I blame thee not; --

My Love, we both must ever wretched be!

Until death's peace concludes our fated lot,

My Love, we both must ever wretched be!

I see the scorn which round thy pale lip weaves,

And see thine eyes outlighten haughtily,

And see the pride with which thy bosom heaves,

And wretched thou art still, wretched as I.

In secret round thy mouth a pain-thrill steals,

Through tears held back thine eyes can scarcely see,

Thy haughty breast a bleeding heart conceals; --

My Love, we both must ever wretched be!