Who devised the first song,
that into the air did resound?
Spring found it in the balmy night,
filling hearts with joy.
He sang it first in the lilacs
and the rhythm puls'd to it:
O May!  the time of love-dreams,
what is as sweet as you!

Then, little gnats and beetles came,
Forest birds marked the tune,
they practiced the style,
and by thousandfold;
they carried it thru' the heavens
and in all the forest is peace:
O Maytime joy, o time of love-dreams,
what is as sweet as you!

The nightingale sang to me by the brook,
and a sweet sadness o'er came me!
Now, the song follows me everywhere
through the air and snow-white blooms.
From the lilacs I gather a bouquet
and I always sing:
O Maytime, o time of love-dreams,
what is as sweet as you!
what is as sweet as you!

I am a young wayfarer,   
without worries:
today I drink from the spring,
tomorrow the Rhine-wine.
I am an honorable knight, 
riding on Shank's pony, 
On my coat of arms
is emblaz'd the motto:
Merry blood and light spirit
and what's lost is lost. 
Amen.

I arrive in a small town
and I can easily sniff-out
where to find the best wine
and the beautiful women.
A minstrel smiles cheerfully 
playing his fiddle briskly
and into his hat I toss
my last coins.
Merry blood and light spirit
and what's lost is lost. 
Amen.

[ ... ]

Weep you not with eyes so red,
Maiden, before mourning know:
the wayfarer's love
is of short duration, 
the wayfarer's love is so brief
it lasts hardly til' I'm out the door.
Weep you not with eyes so red,
you've not lost much:
[Merry blood and light spirit
and what's lost is lost. 
Amen.]1

A comet falls thru' the sky, 
it threatens the end of the world,
recite your rosary,
little will come of it.
A great Fire could come and destroy
Mountains, forest and heath,
the inn, all reduced to dust,
its boards all blackend ashes.
Merry blood and light spirit
and whats lost is lost.
Amen.