The flower of love has flowed onto the tree

1. Flower of love, ; It has flowed onto the tree, ; There is no one to pluck it, ; It withers away into itself. ; ; 2. Pick up Margit, pick up Margit, ; Tie it to your bouquet, ; Give it to me, the most delicious of the sweet ; I will drink it to Mihály. ; ; 3. If it doesn't suit him, ; Put it in his chest, ; Every time he smells it, ; He always says: ; My heart gave it to Margit. (to the 4th line of the melody)