THE JOYOUS WANDERER
Translated from M. Catulle Mendès
I GO by road, I go by street—
Lira, la, la!
O white high roads, ye know my feet!
A loaf I carry and, all told,
Three broad bits of lucky gold—
Lira, la, la!
And oh, 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 oh 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!
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