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VIOLET ON THE MOUNTAIN
The wedding party of the lice
Wah, how hard you have been,
Wretched poverty!
I have worn this same shirt
For about three or four years.
Inside it lice are brooding,
Bringing up their chicks.
They are remarkable creatures:
Each one has twelve feet.
The lice are having a wedding,
They’re calling to start the round dance.
Now they have brought out the bride,
Dressed in marten furs.
They have got barrels of beer,
And plates with candles on them;
Just look at how these lice
Empty their drinking horns!
Love
In vain I came into this world.
A man should never grow up,
Never turn white from fury,
Never burn with passion,
Never be pained by worry,
Never be wracked by his heart.
If only the thoughts of the heart
Could be seen with the eyes,
If a man has one heart or two,
All of this be understood;
It should be a law, that the heart
Be always full with love.
If you are wholehearted toward others,
Goodwill will go with you always.
May the old ways be destroyed
And a new order begin,
So that to be with you always
Will be no occasion for scandal:
I wish that I would be buried
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