13 Spring
The waters glisten and merrily glide,—
How lovely is love midst spring’s splendour!
The shepherdess sits by the streamlet’s side,
And twines her garlands so tender.
All nature is budding with fragrant perfume,
How lovely is love midst spring’s splendour!
The shepherdess sighs from her heart: “O to whom
“Shall I my garlands surrender?”
A horseman is riding beside the clear brook,
A kindly greeting he utters;
The shepherdess views him with sorrowful look,
The plume in his hat gaily flutters.
She weeps and into the gliding waves flings
Her flowery garlands so tender;
Of kisses and love the nightingale sings—
How lovely is love midst spring’s splendour!