THE MILLER’S TEARS

Oh, how many years have gone by,
Since I am miller here?
The wheels (of the mill) are turning,
The years are passing,
I’m already old and gray.
There are days when I try to remember,
If I ever had a bit of luck.
The wheels are turning,
The years are passing,
No [bad word] back to me.
I have heard them say,
they want to drive me,
From the town and from the mill,
The wheels are turning,
The years are passing,
Without an end and without a goal.
Where will I live?
Who will look after of me?
I’m already old,
I’m already tired.
The wheels are turning
The years are passing,
And together with them,
the Jew is dying.