1. Come, see the winter is past, the rain is over and gone: the flowers appear in the meadows at last, the time of singing has come. 2. The fig tree bears the young fruit, the vines are fragrant and full; the voice of the dove can be heard in the wood: arise, my love, for I call. 3. O come, my love, come away! To you, my own, I belong; O come to the mountains of spices with me, the gift of love for our song.