Once the thrush is awake,
On this still-damp heath
I [will] come to sit until evening;
Grandmother, from whom I'm hiding,
Says: “Loïc loves his cow too much.”
Oh! Oh! IT’s not so!
For I love little Anna.

In turn, Anna, my companion,
Leads, beyond the crest of the hill,
Near the [grove of] elders,
Her [flock of] black goats;
So the mountain, where I wander,
Just like a high wall, separates us,
[But] her sweet voice, 						
Her voice calls me from the depths of the woods. 	

Oh! this plaintive and tender melody,
How sweet it is to hear in the distance,
Without even having
The happiness of seeing each other!
From the mountain to the valley
The voice called by the other voice
Seems like a sigh
Equally mixed of sorrow and of pleasure.

[Yes]1, hold your breath,
Scatterbrained breeze, [otherwise]2 on the plain,
Among the wheat,
You [may] run, fly!
[Ah! The wicked [wind] is the strongest,
And has taken away the soft and frail voice]3
The sweet voice
That calls me from the depths of the wood.

Again! Again! Anna, my beauty!
Anna, it's Loïc who calls you!
Once more [to hear] the sound 
Of your song!
The song sung by [your] lips,
In order to amuse your goats,
Little Anna, 
You [dance]4 your gay “Ta-ra-la!"

Oh! Do you remember the holly tree 
You climbed, fearful girl,
When all of a sudden
The wolf appeared?
Into the holly [where] still, my darling,
Resonating among the birds
Your sweet voice [is],
Your voice which sings from the depths of the wood!

But what is behind the branch
This wandering, white smoke
Which [slowly]5
Descends toward me?
Alas! This white smoke,
It’s the farewell of my beloved,
The farewell of love,
Which rises at the end of the day.

[So farewell,]6 against a savage wind
Through my fingers, my mouth
In this ravine
Calls in vain;
Already night comes on the heath;
Let’s go back to the village, greedy cow!
Oh, gui-lan-la!								
Farewell, my little Anna!