Give the starved dogs ends or bones,
Perhaps it’ll inaugurate fighting.
Give the tosspots beverage cold,
Perhaps their affliction will be lighter.
So that ye can’t hear the crow,
Scare away the black ravens.
And for to let feeling grow,
Spare the lovers calm havens.
For to receive a rich harvest,
Water the soil after seeding...
Well, I won’t break any bounds,
Only return ye me freedom!
There the dogs got meat bones,
But—a surprise!—no fight followed.
To the tosspots, was proposed
Rum, but no droplet is swallowed.
Orderly the ravens are scared,
But they don’t care a farthing.
All of the lovers are paired,
But they deliberate on parting.
Water was poured—what a riddle!—
No sprouts emerge somehow...
Yesterday I was given freedom—
What shall I do with it now?..