My curly hair did not always
  Flow with such a silvery sheen,
There were once times
 When I myself was young.

And if I gaze upon you, oh maiden,
  So rosy and merry and young,
Memories rise up
  From times past.

The mother of your mother--
  I have never yet seen anyone more beautiful,
I marvelled at her as at the sun,
  Blinded by her light.

Once the pressure of her hand
  Caused joy to quiver through me,
But she thereupon turned her fancy to another,
  Thus I travelled to a foreign land.

Long after, I returned to my homeland,
  A tired man after a mad wandering,
On the familiar heavens there already rose
  The other sun.

Yes, your mother, oh maiden,
  I have never yet seen anyone more beautiful,
I marvelled at her as at the sun,
  Blinded by her light.

She once inclined her brow toward me
  For a kiss; I trembled mightily,
But she thereupon turned her fancy to another,
  Thus I travelled across the sea.

I have dreamed away and sorrowed away
  My life; I am an old man;
I am returning home, [and] the third sun
  Lights up the firmament of heaven.

It is you, oh woman rich in joys;
  I have never yet seen anyone more beautiful,
I marvel at you as at the sun,
  Blinded by your light.

You give me your lips to kiss,
  Pityingly, to do me a good deed,
And turn your fancy to another; I go
  Soon to rest under the earth.