The song of the enamored shepherd

Green, enchanting riverbanks,

Fresh and flowering valleys,

Pure crystalline waters,

Tall mountains where they have their source.

Guide me along your paths

And permit me to find

This jewel that I lost,

And which costs me such a great love.

I wear, stained with blood,

My sandals and my hands

Scratched from parting thorns;

From sleeping on the ground

Of that deserted bank

My hair is tangled.

And when the dawn comes,

Soaked by the dew

That is scattered on my head

By the clouds that are fleeing the sun

Moistening the air.

Green, enchanting riverbanks,

Fresh and flowering valleys,

Pure, crystalline waters,

Tall mountains where they have their source.