Under the Linden, ca. 1200

Under the linden tree deep in the meadow
Here's where we made our bed of love.
Crushed flowers and grass bespoke our activity
Tanderadei, the nightengale sang above.

I followed the road as my beloved waited.
"Blessed lady, you sanctify me," he said.
Did he kiss me? Oh yes, a thousand times
Tandaradei, my lips are still red.

He made me a bed abounding in flowers.
I laughed to myself with glee.
Had anyone come to that rosy brier
Tandaradei, what an eyeful he'd see.

Had anyone seen what we had done
God forbid, what shame would fall upon me.
But no one witnessed how we used eachother
Tandaradei, but the little bird singing in the tree.