The wind has come once more a-blasting
Not relenting, everlasting,
Leaves and hats alike it twirls 

Through an open garden, soaring,
Through pear and apple trees it’s roaring.
A game of hide and seek unfurls.

Mischievous wind, oh, do pray tell:
Why’d you tousle up my hair?
Will my sweet mama on it dwell,
To let my beau see me, do I dare?

But the wind continues gusting,
Never pausing, nor responding
In the paths, thumping and rustling,

With sly laughter forward bursting
The world for her -- bellows pounding,
Then the song anew resounding

Translation into English: Ruth R.  © 2020
(with poetic license)