Song of one in love

At the earliest, oh long before daylight,

my heart awoke to think of you,

since only a healthy youth may sleep.

My eye is clear at midnight,

clearer than at the early morning bells:

When did you think of me?

Were I a fisherman, I'd get up,

carry my net down to the river,

carry happily the fish to sell.

In the mill, by a light, the miller's man

bestirs himself, all the gears clatter

such vigorous activity would be just right for me!

But poor me! Poor devil!

I must make my bed in idle misery,

feeling like an unruly mama's boy!