Die Forelle

In a bright little brook
There shot in joyful haste
The capricious trout
Past like an arrow

I stood on the shore
And saw in sweet peace
The lively fish's bath
In the clear brook

A fisherman with his rod
Stood on the bank
And watched with cold blood
How the little fish turned

As long as the water was clear
I thought, it won't fail
He won't catch the trout
With his fishing rod

But finally the thief grew impatient
The time became too long. He made
The brook treacherously murky
And before I knew it

His rod twitched
The fish wriggled on it
And I with lively blood
Saw the deceived one