Look, now summer has come

Look, now summer has come,

the cherries are ripe;

on the meandering garden paths

I move my silken foot.

I have spun silk

out of the joy of my youth,

silk from my head to my feet -

know not where I dare tread;

love precious stones,

love golden buckles;

must look like the wallflower,

gaudy in her poverty.

Am kept bound to the house,

guarded from cunning serpents, -

would so like to speak a little

to the other prisoners.

Look, now summer has come,

the fruit on the trees is ripe.

Summer has its storms,

the fruit falls at my feet.

Shame, such ugly thoughts.

The wind must waft them away,

the wind must end my ditty...

there comes his Lordship's messenger!