Bore my Woe across a stream
Over thinning ice in Spring;
As the ice gave way, the heart all a sudden sank;
Went down water by a stone,
And the burden of my Woe
Wriggled out and by the ledge
Of the crack held back.

Since that very day, my Woe
Noses for me high and low,
Idle Talk and Dirty Wash always hang around;
But a willow, lone and bare,
And a pair of flighty quails
Were the only ones aware
That I did not drown.

If the willow or a quail
Should have had my Prince awake,
Only they had spilled the beans, given me away.
And beside himself with lust,
He set out for me at once,
And the Woe with Gossips latched
With him on his way.

He caught up with me at last,
Hugged and raised me on his arms.
In the seat behind, the Woe, smirked contentedly.
But for long he couldn’t stay.
He could spare one only day,
So instead, the Woe remained
With me ever since.