The Joyous Wanderer

Translated from M. Catulle Mendès

I go by road, I go by street-- Lira, la, la! O white highways, ye know my feet! A loaf I carry and, all told, Three broad bits of lucky gold-- Lira, la, la! And O within my flowering heart, (Sing, dear nightingale!) is my Sweet.

A poor man met me and begged for bread-- Lira, la, la! "Brother, take all the loaf," I said, I shall but go with lighter cheer-- Lira, la, la! And O within my flowering heart (Sing, sweet nightingale!) is my Dear.

A thief I met on the lonely way-- Lira, la, la! He took my gold; I cried to him, "Stay! And take my pocket and make an end." Lira, la, la! And O within my flowering heart (Sing, soft nightingale!) is my Friend.

Now on the plain I have met with death-- Lira, la, la! My bread is gone, my gold, my breath. But O this heart is not afraid-- Lira, la, la! For O within this lonely heart (Sing, sad nightingale!) is my Maid.