I met her on Sunday
we talked about walking
I asked her her name
among other things.
Monday was a failure
she didn't come, I know it,
because the other Sunday
I found her again.
Thus our love begins, in spring,
when the roses of the rosebush are like Celia,
Now I just wonder "Maybe she loves me"
and I do nothing but to repeat your name "Celia".
We entered the church together for the first time
for God from the altar to bless us.
Now time will tell us, that I with Celia
we won't separate from each other anymore, may God want it,
Oh Celia!