May has come, like gold the flowers 
In the velvety grass glow so beautifully.
Rejoicing is in the air,
The chasms are growing green,
The trees are blooming, upon the heights, in the valley:
Who could count the number of the delightful little blossoms!

There is the scent of so many flowers in the garden,
Red-cheeked children are playing gleefully;
They sing, they leap
In merry circles,
The bird is twittering, it hops on the bush,
There it swiftly carries the little blade of grass into its bed.

The swallows are darting like dark arrows;
They are in remarkable haste with their building.
Flying from far away
They came hither,
They found and are repairing their old nest,
Welcome, welcome, ye summer guests!

The kite is boldly circling in the air,
The cuckoo is calling from the forested green.
The thrush nightingales
Have quietly revealed themselves:
From the swaying treetop, from forest and bush
A gaudy jumble is rising and moving.

The wheels are creaking, the field is teeming,
With plowing and planting it is joyfully tilled,
With jests loving hearts
Speak to each other,
The lad teases the rosy maiden,
And were he to chastise her, she would not take it amiss.

In the dark of the night, the blissful night,
Where stars and breezes are ignited by love,
Something approaches quietly
In the familiar manner.
Something taps gently upon the little window:
A secret finger has opened [the window].