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Es heult der Sturm, die Nacht ist graus,
Die Lampe schimmert im Müllerhaus.
Da schleichen drei Räuber wild und stumm -
Husch, husch, pist, pist! - ums Haus herum.
Die Müllerstochter spinnt allein,
Drei Räuber schaun zum Fenster herein.
Der zweite will Blut, der dritte will Gold,
Der erste, der ist dem Mädel hold.
The storm wind howls - a grisly night;
The lamp in the mill is twinkling bright.
Three robbers are sneaking, wild and still -
hush, hush, whist, whist! - around the mill.
The miller's daughter sits and spins.
There! In the window - three evil grins!
The second wants blood, the third wants gold,
The first is after the maiden bold.
Wilhelm Busch
Read poems about / on: daughter, evil, wind, night, howl
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Wilhelm Busch
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