Pretty boy,
  you are so merry
   and your smile's - so light, so sunny.
Don't you ask me for this passion
  that is poison to the worlds.
You don't know, don't know how dreadful
  is this Magic Violin, sonny,
And how gloomy is the horror
  of the one who strikes the cords.

He who took it one fine morning
  in his hands, so strong and speedy,
Lost for ever, lost for ever
   tranquil light of his bright eyes.
Hades' spirits like to listen
  to these regal sounds, kiddy.
Rabid wolves are wandering near
  not to miss the violin cries.

You must keep these ever ringing
   strings of Violin crying, singing
And the fiddle stick beating, twisting,
  whipping, whirling, going mad...
When the summer Sun is shining,
  when the snow is whirling, swinging,
When the West is burning crimson,
  when the East is blushing red.

You'll get tired and slow dowm breaking singing
  just to sense it
    that you can't that very minute
      breath or sigh -
        you are all pangs
For at once the rabid monsters'll rush at you -
  blood thirsty, frenzied,
Tramp your chest with their forefoes,
 pierce your throat with their fangs.

Then you'll realize how foully
  laughed at you
    all that was singing.
Tardy, but all-mighty fear
 will appear in your eyes.
Melancholy, dreary death cold'll
  wrap your head,
    your ears ringing...
And your bride will burst out crying,
   friends will have a sad surmise.

Kiddy, further! Won't meet here
  neither merriment nor riches!
But I see that you are smiling
  and these gazes are two rays.
Take the Violin, see the abyss
   in the eyes of beast-like creatures,
       die the glorious and the horrid
          Death
            that crowns musicians' ways.