At the water's edge I do stand, and I cannot get to you. Oh, you call me from afar, but I cannot swim!
Finster is' mein' Welt,
Mein' Jugend is' schwarz,
Mein Glück is' verstellt,
Es fault mir mein Harz.
Es zittert mir jetwider Eewer,
Es kühlt mir dās Blut,
Mit dir in ēin Keewer
Wet mir sein gut.
Ach, wās willst du, Mutter, hāben,
Wās mutschest da dein Kind?
Wās willst du mir begrāben?
Für wāssere Sünd'?
Ich hāb' kēin Nachas geha't,
Nor Leiden un' Kummer,
Ich welk' wie ein Blatt,
Wie ein Blum' Ssof Summer.
Wu nemm' ich mein' Freund
Chotsch auf ēin Scho?
Alle hāben mir feind
Un' du bist nit dā!
Dark is my world; my youth is black, my fortune is veiled, my heart is decaying.—Every limb of mine is trembling; my blood grows cold; I should feel well with you in one grave.—Oh, what do you want of me, mother? Why do you vex your child? Why do you wish to bury me? For what sins of mine?—I have had no joy, only suffering and sorrow. I am fading like a leaf, like a flower at the end of summer.—Where shall I find my friend but for one hour? No one loves me, and you are not here.
With the same feeling that prompts the Jewish woman to repeat the prayer, 'O Lord, I thank Thee that Thou hast created me according to Thy will!' while the man prays, 'I thank Thee that Thou hast created me a man,' she regards her disappointments in love as perfectly natural; and the inconstancy of man, which forms the subject of all songs of unhappy love, does not call forth recriminations and curses, which one would expect, but only regrets at her own credulity.
One would imagine that the wedding day must appear as the happiest in the life of the woman, but such is not the case. With it begin all the tribulations for which she is singled out; and the jest-maker, who is always present at the ceremony of uniting the pair, addresses the bride with the words:
Bride, bride, weep! The bridegroom will send you a pot full of horseradish, and that will make you snivel unto your very teeth,