So long as the child preferred to me such and such a
player of the flute or singer to the zither,
little I cared
that she loved such and such a player of the flute or
scratcher of the zither.
My Own is beautiful as floated perfume is
The other day she seemed an opening flower
My own is beautiful as Angel's flesh in springtime
The other evening all the sun was on my heart
Why pick at old wounds?
It was so long ago.
All is well finished that causes
Remembrances of spring.
The three girls on the sea-shore
have seen the Virgin mother passing
along the grave colonnades
ah! whence came you Virgin mother