I went, the other day, to where I had first seen you.
You were a little girl [then], and I was a child.

Where are those years, the beautiful years,
When you had flowers in [your] heart?
Where is that love, my sweet love,
For to warm us in this cold.

At your noble, humble, little house,
I stopped to weep for bitter grief.

Where are those years, the beautiful years,
When you had flowers in [your] heart?
Where is that love, my sweet love,
For to warm us in this cold.

The door is locked, the keys are lost,
It is raining in the streets and in my empty heart.

Where are those years, the beautiful years,
When you had flowers in [your] heart?
Where is that love, my sweet love,
For to warm us in this cold.