O
mother, the young Prince is
to pass by our door, --how can I attend to my work this morning?
Show
me how to braid up my hair; tell me what garment to put on.
Why
do you look at me amazed, mother?
I
know well he will not glance up once at my window; I know he will pass
out of my sight in the twinkling of an eye; only the vanishing strain of
the flute will come sobbing to me from afar.
But
the young Prince will pass by our door, and I will put on my best for
the moment.
O
mother, the young Prince did pass by our door, and the morning sun
flashed from his chariot.
I
swept aside the veil from my face, I tore the ruby chain from my neck
and flung it in his path.
Why
do you look at me amazed, mother?
I
know well he did not pick up my chain; I know it was crushed under his
wheels leaving a red stain upon the dust, and no one knows what my gift
was nor to whom.
But
the young Prince did pass by our door, and I flung the jewel from my
breast before his path.