Once, I can't remember,
I was innocent but so full of pain
While one midsummer's eve
I did met the fair Rose-red.
My old mother did not fancy,
she sobbed and wept all night long,
but my passion continued to spark
as I constantly whispered ,, Rose-red,,
So my home of wood I kindly fled,
no longer a roof to shelter my poor head,
but gladly I spent my youthful days
with the cheerful Rose-red.
In the morning, song of nightingale
made her charming face to glow
while her strawberry lips sang
,, My love, see how so blissful is your Rose-red ,,
But alas, the cry of the violin was heard too soon,
as I peacefully am now sinking before the early tide
And from the Heavenly kingdom i do beseech
-Mercy, oh sweet mercy- for my Rose-red.
Now that the sun has set behind the far pines,
and only the stars accompany my deep mourning,
there is no one else by my side
to help me bury Rose-red.
My long black cloak was envied by the night
which sent me a gentle autumn breeze,
as I pressed my soiled hands upon the wooden coffin
and only whispered ,, Oh, my poor Rose-red ,,
And tonight within this cursed hour,
I too shall be sleeping above the cold stone,
for there is no tender lullaby than the roses that stirred
around the grave of my dearest Rose-red...