When springtime comes and looks down from the mountains,
When the snow in the valley and upon the hills melts,
And the streams bubble forth
And the buds swell,
Then longing makes itself heard in my heart.

When from the morello cherry tree scented blossoms fall like snow,
When the storks come and the cuckoo screams,
When the doves coo
And the bees buzz,
Then the golden time of love begins.

When the meadows are garlanded with the colourful adornment of flowers
And love calls from bush and forest,
When the finches call
And carry together twigs for a nest,
I, too, search for a little sweetheart.

When, pondering, then I walk through the shrubs and fields
And, I know not how, find myself standing in front of her door,
Looking into her eyes,
Pressing her to my heart,
Then I feel so well and wonderfully woeful.

Rejoicing with happiness, I would like to cry up toward heaven,
I would like to weep also in my quiet chamber,
I would like to fight, would like to be victorious, 
Would like to fly with the clouds, 
Ah, would like to always be lying upon her heart.