The rose puts on her blush, the leaves on the bright branch sprout all eagerly again. The wild drakes begin to woo, all animals gladden their mates, as a stream that flows so softly. The moon sends forth her light and so does the lovely bright sun when birds sing so loudly. Dews drench the downs creatures with their secret songs tell their tales. If I should go without the love of one, then I must forgo such joy and happiness and flee immediately into the wood.
Seed grows and meadows bloom and the wood springs forth anew.
The ewe bleats after the lamb the cow lows after the calf the bull leaps, the buck farts. Cuccu, cuccu, you sing well, cuccu. And yet I bar the flour awey. And yet I bore the flower away. A churl's hand has seized me.