Translated by Ed Bernthal

In my Father’s garden stood
Two trees close by each other.
On this one cloves grew
Nutmeg on the other one.

The brown cloves smell good
Nutmeg tastes so sweet.
If my loved one had only eaten one
He surely would have remained true to me.

How could he eat only one
When he does not say a word
One word, yes, that he does say
But he does not begrudge it to me.


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