I should compare you to the nightingale's song,
On a May morning in a quiet garden with a supple mountain ash,
As for my sour bird cherry trees in the misty distance
Those further most away, they are the most desirable.
How did it all happen, on what evenings?
For three years I dreamed of you, and we met yesterday,
I know no longer sleep, I want to keep this dream of mine
You my dear, I shall not compare to anyone else.
I would have to compare you to the most beautiful woman,
That touches his heart with her cheerful glance,
That on a gentle stroll an unexpected one came round,
She is the furthest away yet, and the most desirable
How did it all happen, on what evenings?
For three years I dreamed of you, and we met yesterday,
I know no longer sleep, I keep this dream of mine
You my dear, I shall not compare to anyone else,
You my dear, I shall not compare to anyone else.