Nightingale of the wood, nightingale wild
Teach me your language, teach me to speak,
Teach me the manner, how to love.
How to love, I go tell you
You have to kiss the girls, caress them often
By telling them: The beautiful one, I will be your lover.
The beautiful one, they say everywhere that you have apples,
Pippin apples that are in your garden.
Please allow me to put my hand there.
No, I will not allow my apples to be touched,
Bring me the Moon, the Sun to my hand.
You will touch my apples which are in my garden.

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