She, very early, when the sun lifts

the dark shades and lights the day,

and when the birds in the distance sing,

her morning promenade was doing.

After long absence, after all I saw her

again. She was the same, sacred sweet,

that had my altar, my dulia

and whose lit glance still enchants me.

We proceeded together and speaking went

in the one of the old days thankful history.

Still tender idylls in appearances

they rhymed me her radiant eyes.

And I had (rare joy of victory!)