Het waren twee koninghs kindren

Het waren twee koninghs kindren,
Sy hadden malkander soo lief;
Sy konden by malkander niet komen,
Het water was veel te diep.

Wat stack sy op: drie keerssen,
Drie keerssen van twaelf int pont,
Om daer mee te behouden
's Konincks soone van jaren was jonck.

Met een quam daer een besje,
Een oude fenynde bes,
En die blies uyt de keerssen
Daer verdroncker dien jongen helt.

‘Och moeder,’ seyde sy, ‘moeder
Mijn hoofje doet mijnder soo wee,
Mocht ik 'er een kort half uurtje
Spanceeren al langhs de zee?'

‘Och dochter,’ seydese, ‘dochter!
Alleen en meught ghy niet gaen:
Weckt op u jongste suster,
En laet die met u gaen.’

‘Mijn alder jongste suster
Dat is also kleynen kint;
Sy pluckt maer al de roosjes
Die sy in haer wegen vint;

Sy pluckt maer al de roosjes,
En die bladertjes laet sy staen,
Dan seggen maer al de lieden,
Dat hebben konincx kinderen gedaen.’

De moeder gingh na de kercke,
De dochter gingh haren gangh:
Zy gingh maer also verre
Daer sy haer vaders visser vant.

‘Och visscher,’ seydese, ‘visscher,
Mijn vaders visscherkijn,
Wout ghy een weynigh visschen,
't Zoud' u wel geloonet zijn.’

Hy smeet zijn net in 't water,
De lootjes gingen te gront,
Hoe haest was daer gevisset
's Koninghs sone van jaren was jonck.

Wat trock sy van haer hande?
Een vingerling root van gout:
‘Hout daer myns vaders visser,
Dat isser den loone voor jou.’

Sy nam hem in de armen,
Sy kusten hem voor sijn mont,
‘Och mondelingh, kost ghy spreken!
Och hertje waert gy der gesont!’

Zy nam hem in haer armen,
Zy spronker mee in de zee:
‘Adieu mijn vader en moeder,
Van u leven siet ghy my niet weer.

Adieu mijn vader en moeder,
Mijn vriendekens alle gelijck,
Adieu mijn suster en broeder,
Ick vaerder na 't hemelrijk.’

Origineel middeleeuws Nederlands

They were two kids of royal birth

They were two kids of royal birth,
for love they couldn't sleep
nor come together on the earth,
the water was too deep.

She lit three candles on the shore,
within the swimmer's reach,
to save her prince for evermore
and meet him on the beach.

At night there came a passenger,
an old and vicious crone.
She blew the candles, all of them,
for this brave prince to drown.

‘Oh mother dear,’ so said the lass,
‘my head is aching sore.
Can I please wander after mass?
My head would ache no more.’

‘Oh daughter,’ said the mother dear,
‘you cannot go alone.
Wake up your sister sleeping here.
And take a jar of stone.’

‘My sister is a little child,
she'll pick each rose we find.
My sister is a little wild,
the rules she doesn't mind.

She'll pick the roses, all of them,
and leaves the leaves behind.
And when some people see the stem,
they'll blame the royal kind.’

The mother walked to the church,
the daughter to the sea,
for father's fisherman to search.
She found him easily.

‘Oh fisher,’ said she, ‘you're the best
among my father's staff.
I beg please help me in my quest
to find my other half.’

He cast his nets into the sea,
whose bottom bore the lead.
He fished the prince up readily,
the princess' wish to meet.

She slipped her own golden ring
quite quickly off her hand.
‘You have deserved this precious thing,
don't lose it in the sand.’

She took her darling in her arms,
and kissed him on his lips.
‘Oh, please, recover all your charms
and let's resume our trips!’

She brought her darling to the waves,
and jumped into the sea.
‘Farewell, my family and slaves,
until eternity.’

‘Farewell, my family and friends,
and all ye whom I love.
My soul is flying in the winds
to heaven, like a dove.’

Translation - HFH Reuvers Maastricht juni 2017