Though mad nightingales their joying
to the springtime garden tell -
Will the world for me be joyless,
if you're not with me as well!

Though the woods and grasses rustle,
though the apple - tree blooms fair,
Still the sweetest fruit is bitter
if my loved one isn't there!

Though the butterflies are flitting
and disporting on the lea -
I'll be sad unless my pretty,
dainty butterfly's with me!

Even angels, even peris
are for me a host of shades -
If there's not with me my lovely,
my incomparable maid!

Translated by Jessie Davies