My girdle I hung on a tree top tall

My girdle I hung on a tree-top tall,

So the songs of the birds, it hears them all.

O maiden, who gave thee those lips so red,

That smile, and those songs? --

-- Lad, what is it to thee

Or why wouldst thou know who hath given them me? --

-- And whither, O maiden, so fast art thou sped?

To the plum-tree groves in the valley below,

Or there, where the orchards of apple-trees grow

Overhanging the cliff? --

-- Lad, what is it to thee,

Since it is not thou that shalt go with me? --

My girdle I hung on a tree-top tall,

So the songs of the birds, it hears them all.

O maiden, and what in thy heart dost thou bear?

A song, or a love? --

-- Lad, what is it to thee?

If there's one that I love, sure, thou art not he. --

Where wouldst thou I died of my love, then, where?

By the river, where over me flowers shall weep?

In the hut, where the mother who lulled me to sleep,

Shall sing me my dirge? --

--Lad, what is it to me,

Since I am not going to weep over thee? --

My girdle I hung on a tree-top tall,

So the songs of the birds, it hears them all.