Help me, ye sisters

Help me, ye sisters,

friendly, adorn me,

serve me, today's fortunate one,

busily wind

about my brow

the adornment of blooming myrtle.

Otherwise, gratified,

of joyful heart,

I would have lain in the arms of the beloved,

so he called ever out,

yearning in his heart,

impatient for the present day.

Help me, ye sisters,

help me to banish

a foolish anxiety,

so that I may with clear

eyes receive him,

him, the source of joyfulness.

Dost, my beloved,

thou appear to me,

givest thou, sun, thy shine to me?

Let me with devotion,

let me in meekness,

let me curtsy before my lord.

Strew him, sisters,

strew him with flowers,

bring him budding roses,

but ye, sisters,

I greet with melancholy,

joyfully departing from your midst.