You meadows, farewell, you sunny pasturelands!

You meadows, farewell,

you sunny pasturelands!

The herdsman must leave,

for summer is past.

We travel to the mountain and return

when the cuckoo calls, when songs awaken,

when the earth adorns itself anew with flowers,

when the springs flow in lovely May.

You meadows, farewell,

you sunny pasturelands!

The herdsman must leave,

for summer is past.