To the most graceful one

To the most graceful one

without doubt

I sing a cheerful

love song,

since the pure woman

I love

waves and bids me a charming "Have thanks."

Alas, my heart is sick

with love!

She inspires my love

with her words of thanks!

She greets me with her smiles,

attracts me with kisses,

so that I am thrilled with joy from the bottom of my heart.

As bright as the violets

on a sunlit meadow

is the blue sparkling

out of my delight's eyes.

Her little mouth

blooms fresh and round

like an unfolding rosebud wet with dew.

Her cheeks are of

a rosy hue

not even an angel has,

Heaven knows!

If only I

could keep sitting

next to the praised one until I die.