Through the wheat go the fireflies with the wind,
The new moon enters from the balcony,
The naked child in a silver beam laughs at me:
“Mamma, the song.”

And on the white bed to my white child
Light-heartedly I sing:

“Firefly, come to me,
I will give you king’s bread,
I will give you queen’s bread,
Firefly [of May].”

And the wheat also looks like a silver sea,
The honeysuckle weaves itself into crowns,
Sweet is the scent: “Mamma, a hundred will come,
If you sing the song.”

And on the white bed to my white child
Happily I sing:
 
“Firefly, come to me,
I will give you king’s garments,
And then a queen’s cape,
Firefly [of May].”

The child caresses me slowly and tenderly:
“Mamma, the song.”
The golden head bends sleepily at my kiss,
At my blessing.

And on the white bed to my white child
Quietly I sing:

“Firefly, come to me,
I will give you a king’s bed,
And a queen’s bed sheet,
Firefly [of May].”