For a translation of the original German Poem (as per Google Bard):
- Wild Rose on the Moor:
A wild rose on the moor he spied,
So young and fresh and sweet,
He ran to gaze with joyful pride,
And kneel down at her feet.
Wild rose, wild rose, wild rose red,
Wild rose upon the moor!
“I’ll pluck thee, rose,” the boy then said,
“Wild rose upon the moor!”
“Then I shall prick thee,” softly sighed
The rose, both sweet and sore.
“That thou mayst think of me,” she cried,
“And let me bloom in peace!”
But all in vain, he would not bide,
He gathered as he’d please.
The wild rose on the moorland wide,
She fought with all her might,
But tears and pleas could not provide
Defense against the night.
Wild rose, wild rose, wild rose red,
Wild rose upon the moor!
Poetry by Nathalie 