Early Works of Karl Marx: Book of Verse

The Little Old Man of the Water

A Ballad

The waters rush with an eerie sound,
The waves are swirling round and round.
They seem to feel no pain at all,
As they break and fall,
Cold of heart, cold of mind,
Rushing, rushing all the time.

2

But down in the depths where the waters rage
Sits a mannikin, white with age.
He dances about when the Moon appears,
When little star through cloudlet peers.
Eerily hopping and skipping, he'd try
To drink the little streamlet dry.

3

Waves are his murderers, every one,
They gnaw his ancient skeleton,
It cuts through his marrow and limb like ice
To see them gambol in this wise;
His face is a grimace of sorrow and gloom
Till sunshine stops the dance of the Moon.

4

The waters then rush with an eerie sound,
The waves are swirling round and round.
They seem to feel no pain at all,
As they break and fall,
Cold of heart, cold of mind,
Rushing, rushing all the time.