1. She speaks whenever she is stirred,
Though silent when at rest unstirred,

2. She moans when her wheel is turned,
Disturbing the hearer with her moan.

3. She weeps though not at all forlorn,
Weeping like a woeful lover lorn,

4. She speaks with voice and not with mouth,
And sheds tears not from eyelids, lo!

5. As though she had one dead below,
Her tears in ceaseless torrents flow.

6. When she sings in various tone,
She enraptures her own self alone,

7. Singing a song that makes her wheel
Whirl, and her madness reveal.

8. She pours her empty songs down her well,
And from it a tearful torrent well,

9. Her tears are like molten silver, I ween,
Their hue is as pure white silver sheen.