Very bright tones in the thin winds,

They sing the distant mourning of this day,

That makes us dream after never-felt showers

Completely filled with unimaginable smells.

Like mementos to lost companions

And quiet echo of delights sunken in night,

The foliage falls in the long ago abandoned gardens,

Which sun themselves in the silence of paradise.

In the bright mirror of the clarified floods

We see the dead time strangely animate itself

And our passions in the bleeding

Lift our souls to more distant heavens.

We go through deaths newly transformed

To deeper tortures and deeper delights,

Where the unknown deity governs—

And we are completed by eternally new suns.