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Do der sumer komen was
und die bluomen dur daz gras
wünneclichen sprungen,
alda die vogele sungen,
dar kom ich gegangen
an einen anger langen,
da ein luter brunne entspranc:
vor dem walde was sin ganc,
da diu nahtegale sanc.
Bi dem brunnen stuont ein boum:
da gesach in einen troum,
ich was von der sunnen
gegangen zuo dem brunnen,
daz diu linde maere
mir küelen schaten baere:
bi dem brunnen ich gesaz,
miner swaere ich gar vergaz,
schier entlief ich umbe daz.
Do beduhte mich zehant
wie mir dienten elliu lant,
wie min sele waere
ze himel ane swaere,
und wie der libe solte
gebaren swie er wolte.
danne was mir niht zu we.
got der waldes, swiez erge:
schoener troum enwart nie me.
Gerne slief ich iemer da,
wan ein unsaeligiu kra
diu begunde schrien.
Daz alle kra gedien
als ich in daz günne!
si nam mir michel wünne.
vor ir schrienne ich erschrac:
wan daz da niht steines lac,
so waer ez ir suonetac.
Wan ein wunderaltez wip
diu getroste mir den lip.
die begonde ich eiden:
nu hat si mir bescheiden
waz der troum bediute.
daz hoeret, lieben liute.
Zwen und einer daz sint dri:
dannoch seit si mir da bi
daz min dume ein vinger si.
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When the summer came around,
And the flowers from the ground
Merrily were springing,
And the birds were singing,
I made my aimless way
Where an endless pasture lay.
There the crystal streamlet sprang,
By the wood its waters rang;
A nightingale in answer sang.
A great old tree stood by the stream,
Under which I dreamt a dream.
Escaping from the sun,
I to the spring had run
To shelter for a time
In the cool shade of the lime.
There I lay at the waterside,
Bade my weary cares abide;
In sleep I let my fancies glide.
Then it seemed to me as though
I had conquered every foe;
As though my soul could fly
With ease high in the sky,
And here my body could
Behave exactly as it would;
I was freed from every care!
Though God should grant His blessings rare,
There ne'er could be a dream more fair.
Oh, to have slept forever so!
But a rude, unholy crow
For spite began to screech.
I tried in vain to reach
The bird which would destroy
The dreams which brought me joy.
His crowing took my joy away.
No rounded pebble near me lay
Or 'twould have been his Judgment Day.
A wonderful old woman then
Spoke of things beyond my ken.
Eager to know more,
I asked, and this she swore;
Mark this well, my friend,
Take care to comprehend:
Two and one, now that makes three!
And something more she said to me,
That my thumb a finger be!
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