This my little spring song, swinging,
takes my heart along, a-singing,
to the wide and lovely world out there, 
where the leas and meads are flow'ring,
where the fleecy clouds are tow'ring
that old house has long been there.
Still, without worries,
far from all hurries ,
there lies the world in sunshine bright.
Under age-old trees, greening,
let us be dreaming
into spring days full of golden light.

All the bees are humming, singing
to my little spring song, swinging,
butterflies are flutt'ring here and there.
Nature brings her vernal blessing:
cherry blossoms sky caressing,
scent of roses sweetly fills the air.

Yet how sudden all of this splendour's vanished,
that one lovely day has us brought in May.
For a frosty rime came and all the flow'rs were banished
in a single night they have gone away.
Hushed are all the birds who would sing their spring romances.
Butterflies no longer pleasure in their dances.
E'en the age-old trees do freeze and hope that spring advances,
and the little flowers feel so sad and so blue.

Hush - and hear a gentle ringing
of my little spring song swinging
till we feel the spring sun's golden light.
And once more the meads are flow'ring,
e'en the fleecy clouds are tow'ring,
long forgotten is the frosty night.
 
Relish your young days, find out your own ways,
while for you shines the sun in May.
Life in beauty and clover
might soon be over,
for our springtime passes yet so fast away!