The garden lad has planted
All sorts of green herbs;
The miller lad has surrounded 
You with green May bushes.
But on this green May Day
I am bringing you the best of what is green!

Look here by the threshold of the house how
The slender fir tree here is paying attention
And, in front of your cosy cell,
It is rustling with melodies of love;
The flower living in the dust stays silent,
The fir tree sings out, proudly lifting itself up.

And the tall fir tree, dearest,
Is like this green hunting lad.
When you step out and leave your little hut
Then it quickly lowers its branches,
With the green embrace of its arms
It wants to take hold of you, white little Rose.