Die Krähe
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Eine Krähe war mit mir
Aus der Stadt gezogen,
Ist bis heute für und für
Um mein Haupt geflogen.
Krähe, wunderliches Thier,
Willst mich nicht verlassen?
Meinst wohl bald als Beute hier
Meinen Leib zu fassen?
Nun, es wird nicht weit mehr gehn
An dem Wanderstabe.
Krähe, laß mich endlich sehn
Treue bis zum Grabe!
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Die Krähe
Song information
- Composer
- Franz Schubert
- Poet
- Wilhelm Müller
- Original language
- German (de)
- Selected translation
- English (en)
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English (en)
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Schwa R
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