Wild Rose - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Once a lad a rose did spy,
On the moorland growing,
Young and lovely to the eye;
Fast he ran to see it nigh,
Ran with pleasure glowing.
Red rose, red rose, red rose red,
On the moorland growing.

Spake the lad: “I’ll pick thee now,
Rose on moorland growing!”
Spake the rose: “I’ll prick thee now:
Thou wilt think of me, I trow!—
Go, wild boy, be going!”

But the boy so wild and bad
Broke the red rose glowing;
Rose in anger pricked the lad,
Rose must suffer him, though sad
And her fury showing.
Red rose, red rose, red rose red,
Rose on moorland growing!

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Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749 – 1832) Germany
Translated by Margarete Münsterberg