Wherever I go and look

Wherever I go and look,

in field and forest and plain,

down the hill to the mead;

most beautiful noble lady,

I greet you a thousand times.

In my garden I find

many flowers, pretty and nice,

many garlands I bind from them

and a thousand thoughts

and greetings I weave into them.

Her I must not give one,

she is too noble and fair;

they all have to fade,

only unequalled love

stays in the heart forever.

I seem to be of good cheer

and work to and fro,

and, though my heart bursts,

I dig on and sing,

and soon I dig my grave.