A small stream flows in front of our house.
Song
1. A small stream flows in front of our house, ; A brown boy rattles at my window, ; Crying, crying, bitterly he sobs that word, ; Open the door, my little angel of the tavern. ; ; 2. I will not open it, I will not go out to you, ; They are weaving my bridal wreath now, ; I will go to the one whom my orphan, weak heart does not love, ; I will commit suicide with my life. ; ; 3. If you knew that you do not love me, my little angel, ; Why did you sadden my heart, ; You would have left my orphan, sad heart to rest, ; Someone else could have taken care of it.