I said to the wind of the south:
"O gentle southwind, blow!
Bear kisses to his mouth
and greet him from me so!"
The gentle southwind blew
with softly mournful sound;
o'er hill and dale it blew,
but my love it never found.
O love, dear love, so long away,
while I am lone, where dost thou stray?

I said to the wind of the west:
"O sweetest westwind, make haste
and waken in his breast
longing, my lips to taste."
The westwind swiftly sped
with sobbing mournful sound;
ah, thou canst not be dead,
then why art thou not found?
O love, dear love, so long away,
come, for I die if you delay!