If you stare me and your laughter you untie

in sonorous and clear vibrations,

I read, in your laughter, some volatas,

that bring loving predictions.

In your soul they fly, cooing, the thankful

birds of the love, smiling and canorous.

And you stay to listening to them in abstract,

long reflections, that last for hours and hours.

The puberty makes a certain agitation

and it puts in the glance astral gleams.

What vibrations... when you laugh, I hear

now that you are no more a child!

You sometimes look at me. Your glance ballads

intones for me rhythmic, sonorous.

There is in your laughter the sweet dawns,

that the birds sing at the break of dawns.

In your faces there are blush and shame,

and in your breast shines the sun of love.

Your voice of clean and melodious harping

it is as the one of a singing canary.

You look at the world now with longings

and in it you find attraction and charm;

you have love dawns inside of the breasts —

of these reddish breasts that I decant.

In your walking there exists something

extraordinary - out of the vulgar:

It is almost a wife's fluent walking,