O sweet May!

O sweet May, have mercy;

O sweet May, I entreat you ardently:

at your bosom I see the meadow grow warm,

and everything that lives in your realm is growing;

you, so endlessly tranquil and benevolent,

o dear May, grant me this favour!

The drab pilgrim, who in these regions

escaped the icy breath of wintry times,

chose a maiden, as mild as you look,

spring-fresh like you in chaste magnificence.

That we might love each other and embrace in love -

grant it, May, the most lovely and blessed, have mercy!