—It's nice to have such good neighbors. Their youth warms our cold old age. Their jolliness drives away our cares.
—But their room is like a prison, it's so empty.
—No, it's like a temple. It's so bright.
—Look, they have flowers on the table, the flowers she picked on her walk in the country in her rosy dress with her little bare neck. Here are lilies-of-the-valley. The dew hasn't dried on them yet.
—There is the burning campion.
—And violets.
—Don't touch; don't touch the flowers, girls. Her kisses are upon them. Don't throw them on the floor, girls. Her breath is upon them. Don't blow them away with your breath. Don't touch, don't touch the flowers, girls.
—He'll come and he'll see the flowers.
—He'll take the kisses.
—He'll drink her breath.