The Wife Divorced by Famine

In the midst of the vale the motherwort grows;
All parched on the waterless ground.
There a woman away from her husband goes;
Ah, hear her sighs!
Ah, hear her sighs!
Hard times with her man she has found.

In the midst of the vale the motherwort grows;
All parched where it grew so tall.
There a woman away from her husband goes,
With long, loud moans,
With long, loud moans!
Upon her his misfortunes fall.

In the midst of the vale the motherwort grows;
All parched in the spots once wet.
There a woman away from her husband goes, —
Tears rolling down,
Tears rolling down!
And, alas! what awaits her yet!