Do you wish to hear a song,
A song of love, delightful 
And full of harmony?
Who made it? A knight
Under the shade of a laurel,
In the arms of his sweetheart.

Beneath her ermine she wore
A bodice of thin linen,
A fine silk corset,
With a skirt threaded with gold,
Bright slippers of mayflowers 
And a joyous heart.

For a belt she had 
The foliage that clothes 
The greening wood;
Hanging from her ears
She had diamonds
In which the sky blazed.

Her she-mule with diligent tread
Was shod in silver
Beneath the gold of its saddle.
On its rump, in all
Three rosebushes had been planted 
By way of a parasol.

As she went through the meadow,
A well-outfitted lord 
Spoke to her in plain terms:
"What then is your country?" 
"I am from sweet France,
Of highest birth.

"My father is the nightingale 
Who sings beautifully far from the ground 
In the highest grove;
And my mother who awaits me 
Is a siren, and goes about singing 
On the highest shore."

"Fair maid, your family 
Is truly marvelous;
Would to God the Father 
That though I am a simple mortal, 
You had been, before the altar, 
My cherished bride."