Translations by Aaron Barskdale-Burns, 2021
Das Wandern (Trekking)
Wandering is the miller's joy! It must be a poor miller, to whom it never occurs to wander.
We've learned it from the water! It has no rest by day or night and is always set on wandering.
We see it too in the mill wheels! They don't like at all to stay still and tirelessly spin all day.
The stones themselves, so heavy as they are! They dance in rows and want to go ever faster.
O wandering, you're my heart's desire! Dear Master and Mrs., let me go on wandering in peace!
Wohin ? (To Where?)
I heard a brooklet, likely gurgling from its stony source.
Down to the valley rushing, so fresh and wondrously clear.
I don't know what happened to me, who gave me the advice,
I simply had to follow it with my walking-stick in hand.
Downward and ever further, always following the stream,
and it became fresher and clearer as it went along.
So this is my course? Oh brooklet, speak, to where?
With your bubbling sound you've completely intoxicated my reasoning.
What do I mean by bubbling? That can't be the sound of a stream!
More likely the Rheinmaids are singing their roundelays in the deep.
Stop singing, friend, halt your bubbling, and wander cheerfully along.
Mill wheels are surely to be found in every clear stream.
Halt ! (Stop !)
I see a mill peaking out from the alder trees.
The noise of the mill wheels breaks through the bubbling and singing.
Hey, welcome sweet voice of the mill!
And the house, how is so cozy!
And the windows, gleaming so!
And the sun so bright, shining down from heaven.
Hey, brooklet, dear little stream, is this what you meant?
Danksagung an den Bach (Giving Thanks to the Brook)
Was it meant to be so, my rippling friend? Your singing, your music.
Go to the mill-maid! That's the gist of it.
I've understood correctly, right?
Did she send you, or have you led me astray?
I'd still like to know if she sent you.
And however it may be, I'm all in:
I've found what I was looking for, whatever that might be.
I've asked for work and now I've got enough
For both hands and for my heart, indeed enough and more!
Am Feierabend (The Evening Off)
Had I a thousand arms to move, I could roaringly drive the mill wheels.
I could blow through the woodlands and leave no stone unturned!
All so the maiden of the mill would notice my true nature!
Oh, how weak my arm is!
What I'm lifting and carrying, what I'm cutting and chopping.
I'm no better than the other apprentices.
And this I sit with the whole group
In the cool and calm of our evening off,
And the boss says to everyone: I like your work.
And the dear girl says "good night" to us all.
Der Neugierige (The Curious One)
I ask no bloom nor any of the stars, for
None of them can tell me what I'd very much like to find out.
I'm certainly no gardener, the stars are too high,
My brook, please tell me, if she deceived my heart.
O my dear brook, you're so silent today.
I just want to know one thing, a solitary word.
Yes, is one possibility and the other, No.
These two little words mean the world to me.
O brooklet, my dear, how wonderful you are!
I want to say nothing further, but brooklet, does she love me?
Geduld (Patience)
I'll carve it in the bark of every tree, I'll scrape it into every pebble,
I'd like sew it into every fallow bed with seeds of watercress
so that it will clearly declare,
on every leaf of white paper I'd like to write it;
My heart is yours and always shall be!
I'd like to train a young starling
to speak the words absolutely clear,
until it can say it with the tone of my own voice,
and imitate the burning desire of my heart;
That it may then sing brightly through her window pane:
My heart is yours and always shall be!
I'll breath it into the morning winds,
like a whisper it throughout the rainy grove;
Oh, let it shine on every flowery blossom,
May a fragrance carry it near and far.
Ye clouds, can you do nothing but turn mill wheels?
My heart is yours and always shall be!
I mean, it must be seen in my eyes,
Upon my cheeks you must see it burning.
It would be clear to read upon my silent lips,
My simple breath would make it widely known.
And she notices none of this fearful business!
My heart is yours and always shall be!
Morgengruß (Good Morning)
Good morning, lovely maid!
Where are you hiding your little head
As if something had happened?
Does my greeting truly irk you,
Does my glance disturb you so?
Then I must move on again.
O let me stand far away,
to gaze at your dear window,
from a distance, quite far away!
You blond little head, show yourself!
Peek out from your round doorway,
ye blue morning stars!
You little eyes, drunk with sleep,
You little blossoms, saddened with dew.
Are you so shy of the sun?
Did the night mean so well,
That you close to bend and mourn
for its quiet bliss?
Now shake off the dreamy veil
and arise fresh and liberated
in God's brightly lit morn!
The lark is warbling from aloft
and from depths of its heart cries out
love, suffering and woe.
Des Müllers Blumen (The Miller's Flowers)
At the creek stand many little flowers,
Gazing like bright blue eyes;
The brook is the miller's friend
And my darling's eyes shine bright blue,
So they are my little flowers.
Just under her little window
I want to plant the flowers,
There, when all is quiet, call to her,
When her head nods in slumber,
You do know what what I mean to say.
And when she shuts her little eyes
and sleeps in sweet peace
Whisper to her in a dream-like fashion:
"Forget-me-not!"
For that is what I intend to say.
And when she opens her shutters at dawn,
Look up at her lovingly:
The dew in your little eyes;
They might well be my tears,
Which I want to shed upon you, flowers.
Tränenregen (Rain of Tears)
We sat so cozily together in the cool shade of the Elder trees.
We gazed so cozily together down, towards the rippling brook.
The moon came too, with the stars close behind,
And they glanced so intimately together into the silvery reflection.
I didn't look to the moon nor towards any starlight.
I looked at her likeness, only at her eyes.
And saw them nodding and blinking, as reflected in the blessed creek.
The little blue flowers on the bank of the creek nodded and blinked as she did.
And in the sunken brook, all the heavens shone.
And they too wanted to drag me down into the depths.
And above the clouds and stars, the brook rippled cheerfully
And called to me with singing and music: "Dear fellow!"
My eyes looked you up and down, then the reflection became distorted.
She said: "The rain is coming. Good bye, I'm going home now".
Mein ! (Mine !)
Brooklet, stop your noise !
Mill-wheels, stop your rushing !
All you cheerful forest birds, large and small,
End your Melodies !
Through the woodland in and out,
Only one rhyme should sound,
The beloved maid of the mill is mine !
Springtime, are these all the flowers you have ?
Sun, can't you shine any brighter ?
Oh, all alone I'll have to go on,
With the blessed word "mine",
Misunderstood through the expanse of creation.
Pause (Interlude)
I've hung my lute upon the wall,
Wrapped it with a green ribbon.
I can sing no more, my heart is too full,
and I'm not sure how I can force my feelings into verse.
My longing, a most burning pain,
I may well exhale in playful song.
And as I complained,
So sweetly and delicately,
I believed somehow that my
Suffering was less severe.
Aye, how heavy is the burden of my happiness,
That no music on earth can express it ?
Now, dear lute, rest on this nail.
And if a draft were to blows over your strings,
Or if a bee strums you with it's tiny wings,
I'll be so startled, a shudder will overtake my body.
Why did I let the ribbon hang so long, too ?
It often brushes your strings and makes a sighing sound.
Is that the postlude of my pining ?
Or should it be the prelude to new songs ?
Mit dem grünen Lautenbande (With the Lute's Green Ribbon)
"Too bad about the beautiful green ribbon,
That it fades in color here upon the wall,
I do so very much like green !"
That's what you said to me today, my dear.
I'll clip it off right away and send it to you.
Now, take your beloved green !
When your fondest admirer is completely white,
You'll see that green, has its price too.
I like it as well.
Since our love is evergreen,
And hope blooms green in the distance,
That's why we are both fond of green.
Now please do weave the green ribbon
into your locks, I know you like it so much.
Then I'll know where hope will dwell,
I'll know then where love reigns.
Only then will I fancy green.
Der Jäger (The Hunter)
What's the hunter looking for, here at the mill creek?
Stay, you contrary hunter, in your own area.
There's no game here for you to hunt,
Here there only lives one doe,
A tame one, for me.
And if you want to see this tender little doe,
Leave your rifles in the forest,
Leave your yelping dogs at home
And quit your calls on that noisy horn,
Then shave that stubbly hair from your chin,
Else you'll surely scare the doe in the garden.
Yet even better, just stay put in the woods
And leave the mills and the millers in peace.
Do little fish belong on green branches ?
A squirrel has no place in a clear blue pond.
Therefore stay, defiant hunter, in the woods,
And leave me alone with my three mill-wheels.
And if you want to make my sweetheart
Fall in love with you, then know, my friend,
What afflicts her heart:
Wild boars come out at night
And break into her cabbage patch.
They squash and tear up everything in the field.
These boars, you must shoot them, heroic hunter.
Eifersucht und Stolz (Jealousy and Pride)
Where are you off to so quickly, so wild and disturbed,
my dearest creek ?
Are you rushing angrily after my brother, the bold hunter ?
Turn back, and first scold your miller-maid
For her easy and loose flirtations, turn back !
Didn't you see her yesterday evening, standing at the gate ?
Curving her long neck to peer down the main road ?
When the happy hunter returns home with his game,
No child with manners sticks their head out the window to gape like that.
Go brooklet, and tell her so.
But don't tell her... Do you hear me ?
Not a word about my sad face.
Tell her: "He cuts reeds for a pipe at my banks
And plays pretty dances and songs for the children."
Tell her that !
Die liebe Farbe (The Beloved Color)
I want to dress in green,
To mourn with green tears:
My love is so fond of green !
I'll search for a Cypress grove,
a heather of green rosemary,
My love is so fond of green !
Off to the merry hunt !
Off through the heather and the thicket !
My love is so fond of the hunt !
The game that I chase
Is none other than death,
The heather, I proclaim is the need for love !
My love is so fond of the hunt !
Dig me a grave in the turf,
Cover me with lawn of green:
My love is so fond of green !
No little black cross,
No colorful flowers,
Green, everything green, all around me:
My love is so fond of that.
Die böse Farbe (The Wicked Color)
I'd like to get out into the world,
Out into the wide world;
If only it weren't so green,
Out there in the woods and fields.
I'd like to pluck the green leaves from every twig,
Weep until each blade of grass is bleached a deadly white.
Oh, green you wicked color,
Why do you look at me so proudly, so boldly,
I'm just a wretched, pale-faced man.
I'd like to lay out before her door,
In storms, in rain and snow,
And sing very quietly both day and night,
this single word: "Adieu".
Hark, when in the woods the hunting horn rings out,
You can hear her little window opening.
Oh, tie the green band round your forehead
and reach out your hand to me in farewell, adieu !
Trockne Blumen (Dried Flowers)
All you flowers that she gave me
should be laid with me in my grave.
You look at me so painfully,
As if you knew my fate.
All you flowers, so wilted and pale,
How come you are so wet?
Why, tears will not make you green like in May,
They'll never make dead loves bloom again.
Spring is coming and winter will pass
and blooms will stand in the grass once more.
And flowers will lay with me in the grave,
All the flowers she gave to me.
And when she wanders by my mound
And thinks in her heart: "He was true to me !",
Then little flowers, spring forth all of you,
May has come and winter is over!
Der Müller und der Bach (The Miller and the Brook)
(Miller:) Where a loyal heart passes away,
Lilies are wilting in their bed;
The full moon must disappear into the clouds,
So that people won't see it's tears;
The angels hold their eyes shut
And sigh and sing the soul to its rest !
(Brook:) And when love escapes the pain,
A new little star shines in the firmament;
Three roses spring forth from their thorny stem,
Half red and half white, never to wilt again;
And the angels snip their wings and
Descend to Earth each morning.
(Miller:) Oh, Brooklet, my dear Brooklet,
You mean so well ! But Brooklet,
Do you know, what love can do to a person ?
There, in your depths, is cool rest !
Oh, Brook, dear little Brook,
Just keep singing to me.
Des Baches Wiegenlied (The Brook's Lullaby)
Rest well ! Close your eyes !
Wanderer, so tired, you are home now.
You can trust in me, should you lay down here,
Until the sea drinks up all my waters.
I'll put you to bed on a soft, cool pillow
In my humble, blue crystalline chamber.
Draw forth, all ye who cradle and rock,
Rock and lull this young man to his resting-place !
If a hunting-horn sounds out from the green wood,
I shall rush and roar all around you.
Don't look in, little blue flowers !
You'll give my sleepy one bad dreams.
Away, back away from the mill-dock,
You wicked young maid,
So your shadow won't wake him !
But toss down your fine headscarf,
That I might hold it to cover his eyes.
Good night, until everything wakes again !
Sleep off your joys, sleep off your suffering !
The full moon climbs as the fog dissipates,
And the heavens above, how wide they are !
****
Vielen Dank! Thank you for attending the concert!
- Aaron
Das Wandern (Trekking)
Wandering is the miller's joy! It must be a poor miller, to whom it never occurs to wander.
We've learned it from the water! It has no rest by day or night and is always set on wandering.
We see it too in the mill wheels! They don't like at all to stay still and tirelessly spin all day.
The stones themselves, so heavy as they are! They dance in rows and want to go ever faster.
O wandering, you're my heart's desire! Dear Master and Mrs., let me go on wandering in peace!
Wohin ? (To Where?)
I heard a brooklet, likely gurgling from its stony source.
Down to the valley rushing, so fresh and wondrously clear.
I don't know what happened to me, who gave me the advice,
I simply had to follow it with my walking-stick in hand.
Downward and ever further, always following the stream,
and it became fresher and clearer as it went along.
So this is my course? Oh brooklet, speak, to where?
With your bubbling sound you've completely intoxicated my reasoning.
What do I mean by bubbling? That can't be the sound of a stream!
More likely the Rheinmaids are singing their roundelays in the deep.
Stop singing, friend, halt your bubbling, and wander cheerfully along.
Mill wheels are surely to be found in every clear stream.
Halt ! (Stop !)
I see a mill peaking out from the alder trees.
The noise of the mill wheels breaks through the bubbling and singing.
Hey, welcome sweet voice of the mill!
And the house, how is so cozy!
And the windows, gleaming so!
And the sun so bright, shining down from heaven.
Hey, brooklet, dear little stream, is this what you meant?
Danksagung an den Bach (Giving Thanks to the Brook)
Was it meant to be so, my rippling friend? Your singing, your music.
Go to the mill-maid! That's the gist of it.
I've understood correctly, right?
Did she send you, or have you led me astray?
I'd still like to know if she sent you.
And however it may be, I'm all in:
I've found what I was looking for, whatever that might be.
I've asked for work and now I've got enough
For both hands and for my heart, indeed enough and more!
Am Feierabend (The Evening Off)
Had I a thousand arms to move, I could roaringly drive the mill wheels.
I could blow through the woodlands and leave no stone unturned!
All so the maiden of the mill would notice my true nature!
Oh, how weak my arm is!
What I'm lifting and carrying, what I'm cutting and chopping.
I'm no better than the other apprentices.
And this I sit with the whole group
In the cool and calm of our evening off,
And the boss says to everyone: I like your work.
And the dear girl says "good night" to us all.
Der Neugierige (The Curious One)
I ask no bloom nor any of the stars, for
None of them can tell me what I'd very much like to find out.
I'm certainly no gardener, the stars are too high,
My brook, please tell me, if she deceived my heart.
O my dear brook, you're so silent today.
I just want to know one thing, a solitary word.
Yes, is one possibility and the other, No.
These two little words mean the world to me.
O brooklet, my dear, how wonderful you are!
I want to say nothing further, but brooklet, does she love me?
Geduld (Patience)
I'll carve it in the bark of every tree, I'll scrape it into every pebble,
I'd like sew it into every fallow bed with seeds of watercress
so that it will clearly declare,
on every leaf of white paper I'd like to write it;
My heart is yours and always shall be!
I'd like to train a young starling
to speak the words absolutely clear,
until it can say it with the tone of my own voice,
and imitate the burning desire of my heart;
That it may then sing brightly through her window pane:
My heart is yours and always shall be!
I'll breath it into the morning winds,
like a whisper it throughout the rainy grove;
Oh, let it shine on every flowery blossom,
May a fragrance carry it near and far.
Ye clouds, can you do nothing but turn mill wheels?
My heart is yours and always shall be!
I mean, it must be seen in my eyes,
Upon my cheeks you must see it burning.
It would be clear to read upon my silent lips,
My simple breath would make it widely known.
And she notices none of this fearful business!
My heart is yours and always shall be!
Morgengruß (Good Morning)
Good morning, lovely maid!
Where are you hiding your little head
As if something had happened?
Does my greeting truly irk you,
Does my glance disturb you so?
Then I must move on again.
O let me stand far away,
to gaze at your dear window,
from a distance, quite far away!
You blond little head, show yourself!
Peek out from your round doorway,
ye blue morning stars!
You little eyes, drunk with sleep,
You little blossoms, saddened with dew.
Are you so shy of the sun?
Did the night mean so well,
That you close to bend and mourn
for its quiet bliss?
Now shake off the dreamy veil
and arise fresh and liberated
in God's brightly lit morn!
The lark is warbling from aloft
and from depths of its heart cries out
love, suffering and woe.
Des Müllers Blumen (The Miller's Flowers)
At the creek stand many little flowers,
Gazing like bright blue eyes;
The brook is the miller's friend
And my darling's eyes shine bright blue,
So they are my little flowers.
Just under her little window
I want to plant the flowers,
There, when all is quiet, call to her,
When her head nods in slumber,
You do know what what I mean to say.
And when she shuts her little eyes
and sleeps in sweet peace
Whisper to her in a dream-like fashion:
"Forget-me-not!"
For that is what I intend to say.
And when she opens her shutters at dawn,
Look up at her lovingly:
The dew in your little eyes;
They might well be my tears,
Which I want to shed upon you, flowers.
Tränenregen (Rain of Tears)
We sat so cozily together in the cool shade of the Elder trees.
We gazed so cozily together down, towards the rippling brook.
The moon came too, with the stars close behind,
And they glanced so intimately together into the silvery reflection.
I didn't look to the moon nor towards any starlight.
I looked at her likeness, only at her eyes.
And saw them nodding and blinking, as reflected in the blessed creek.
The little blue flowers on the bank of the creek nodded and blinked as she did.
And in the sunken brook, all the heavens shone.
And they too wanted to drag me down into the depths.
And above the clouds and stars, the brook rippled cheerfully
And called to me with singing and music: "Dear fellow!"
My eyes looked you up and down, then the reflection became distorted.
She said: "The rain is coming. Good bye, I'm going home now".
Mein ! (Mine !)
Brooklet, stop your noise !
Mill-wheels, stop your rushing !
All you cheerful forest birds, large and small,
End your Melodies !
Through the woodland in and out,
Only one rhyme should sound,
The beloved maid of the mill is mine !
Springtime, are these all the flowers you have ?
Sun, can't you shine any brighter ?
Oh, all alone I'll have to go on,
With the blessed word "mine",
Misunderstood through the expanse of creation.
Pause (Interlude)
I've hung my lute upon the wall,
Wrapped it with a green ribbon.
I can sing no more, my heart is too full,
and I'm not sure how I can force my feelings into verse.
My longing, a most burning pain,
I may well exhale in playful song.
And as I complained,
So sweetly and delicately,
I believed somehow that my
Suffering was less severe.
Aye, how heavy is the burden of my happiness,
That no music on earth can express it ?
Now, dear lute, rest on this nail.
And if a draft were to blows over your strings,
Or if a bee strums you with it's tiny wings,
I'll be so startled, a shudder will overtake my body.
Why did I let the ribbon hang so long, too ?
It often brushes your strings and makes a sighing sound.
Is that the postlude of my pining ?
Or should it be the prelude to new songs ?
Mit dem grünen Lautenbande (With the Lute's Green Ribbon)
"Too bad about the beautiful green ribbon,
That it fades in color here upon the wall,
I do so very much like green !"
That's what you said to me today, my dear.
I'll clip it off right away and send it to you.
Now, take your beloved green !
When your fondest admirer is completely white,
You'll see that green, has its price too.
I like it as well.
Since our love is evergreen,
And hope blooms green in the distance,
That's why we are both fond of green.
Now please do weave the green ribbon
into your locks, I know you like it so much.
Then I'll know where hope will dwell,
I'll know then where love reigns.
Only then will I fancy green.
Der Jäger (The Hunter)
What's the hunter looking for, here at the mill creek?
Stay, you contrary hunter, in your own area.
There's no game here for you to hunt,
Here there only lives one doe,
A tame one, for me.
And if you want to see this tender little doe,
Leave your rifles in the forest,
Leave your yelping dogs at home
And quit your calls on that noisy horn,
Then shave that stubbly hair from your chin,
Else you'll surely scare the doe in the garden.
Yet even better, just stay put in the woods
And leave the mills and the millers in peace.
Do little fish belong on green branches ?
A squirrel has no place in a clear blue pond.
Therefore stay, defiant hunter, in the woods,
And leave me alone with my three mill-wheels.
And if you want to make my sweetheart
Fall in love with you, then know, my friend,
What afflicts her heart:
Wild boars come out at night
And break into her cabbage patch.
They squash and tear up everything in the field.
These boars, you must shoot them, heroic hunter.
Eifersucht und Stolz (Jealousy and Pride)
Where are you off to so quickly, so wild and disturbed,
my dearest creek ?
Are you rushing angrily after my brother, the bold hunter ?
Turn back, and first scold your miller-maid
For her easy and loose flirtations, turn back !
Didn't you see her yesterday evening, standing at the gate ?
Curving her long neck to peer down the main road ?
When the happy hunter returns home with his game,
No child with manners sticks their head out the window to gape like that.
Go brooklet, and tell her so.
But don't tell her... Do you hear me ?
Not a word about my sad face.
Tell her: "He cuts reeds for a pipe at my banks
And plays pretty dances and songs for the children."
Tell her that !
Die liebe Farbe (The Beloved Color)
I want to dress in green,
To mourn with green tears:
My love is so fond of green !
I'll search for a Cypress grove,
a heather of green rosemary,
My love is so fond of green !
Off to the merry hunt !
Off through the heather and the thicket !
My love is so fond of the hunt !
The game that I chase
Is none other than death,
The heather, I proclaim is the need for love !
My love is so fond of the hunt !
Dig me a grave in the turf,
Cover me with lawn of green:
My love is so fond of green !
No little black cross,
No colorful flowers,
Green, everything green, all around me:
My love is so fond of that.
Die böse Farbe (The Wicked Color)
I'd like to get out into the world,
Out into the wide world;
If only it weren't so green,
Out there in the woods and fields.
I'd like to pluck the green leaves from every twig,
Weep until each blade of grass is bleached a deadly white.
Oh, green you wicked color,
Why do you look at me so proudly, so boldly,
I'm just a wretched, pale-faced man.
I'd like to lay out before her door,
In storms, in rain and snow,
And sing very quietly both day and night,
this single word: "Adieu".
Hark, when in the woods the hunting horn rings out,
You can hear her little window opening.
Oh, tie the green band round your forehead
and reach out your hand to me in farewell, adieu !
Trockne Blumen (Dried Flowers)
All you flowers that she gave me
should be laid with me in my grave.
You look at me so painfully,
As if you knew my fate.
All you flowers, so wilted and pale,
How come you are so wet?
Why, tears will not make you green like in May,
They'll never make dead loves bloom again.
Spring is coming and winter will pass
and blooms will stand in the grass once more.
And flowers will lay with me in the grave,
All the flowers she gave to me.
And when she wanders by my mound
And thinks in her heart: "He was true to me !",
Then little flowers, spring forth all of you,
May has come and winter is over!
Der Müller und der Bach (The Miller and the Brook)
(Miller:) Where a loyal heart passes away,
Lilies are wilting in their bed;
The full moon must disappear into the clouds,
So that people won't see it's tears;
The angels hold their eyes shut
And sigh and sing the soul to its rest !
(Brook:) And when love escapes the pain,
A new little star shines in the firmament;
Three roses spring forth from their thorny stem,
Half red and half white, never to wilt again;
And the angels snip their wings and
Descend to Earth each morning.
(Miller:) Oh, Brooklet, my dear Brooklet,
You mean so well ! But Brooklet,
Do you know, what love can do to a person ?
There, in your depths, is cool rest !
Oh, Brook, dear little Brook,
Just keep singing to me.
Des Baches Wiegenlied (The Brook's Lullaby)
Rest well ! Close your eyes !
Wanderer, so tired, you are home now.
You can trust in me, should you lay down here,
Until the sea drinks up all my waters.
I'll put you to bed on a soft, cool pillow
In my humble, blue crystalline chamber.
Draw forth, all ye who cradle and rock,
Rock and lull this young man to his resting-place !
If a hunting-horn sounds out from the green wood,
I shall rush and roar all around you.
Don't look in, little blue flowers !
You'll give my sleepy one bad dreams.
Away, back away from the mill-dock,
You wicked young maid,
So your shadow won't wake him !
But toss down your fine headscarf,
That I might hold it to cover his eyes.
Good night, until everything wakes again !
Sleep off your joys, sleep off your suffering !
The full moon climbs as the fog dissipates,
And the heavens above, how wide they are !
****
Vielen Dank! Thank you for attending the concert!
- Aaron