... The sunshine, in the space, shines, lit

in rutilant reflexes. In the hedge,

over the good soil, cared and extensive,

muses oscillate in flaccid consensus

with the breeze that runs softly...

Cheers and aromas wander in the environment

of the Nile edge. Precipitate, quick,

superb ibis fly, soaring

storks, rocos and a thousand other birds,

cutting the breezes the softest ones

by over there.

*

* *

the great Marcus Antonius. The soul encourages him

that inspired hour — that dawn

in that he must see the queen that he adores.

His radiant glance of sharp light

has the untamed power of Shiva,

that dominates and that reigns and it orders a soul

for severe that is or even calm one.

Far away, in the waters, far away, to the tranquil flower,

gilded boat arrives and the breeze oscillates

the rich purple of the crimson sail.

"Here is she!", Marcus Antonius says, "It is her! It is her!"

And sudden, strong trumpets echo,

storks and ibis fast fly again...

rutilate under the sun brazen armors,

helmets shine. Full cups

are erect for brave, vigorous

Romans, whose radiant sights

reveal with vigor, on that moment,

the virile and noble feeling

that encourages them the souls.

the boat and to the wharf it moors. A flag

at the prow then is agitated. The queen comes —

white bosom in nakedness!... Line by line,

aims at her the eburnean body the mad lover

that feverish smiles to her... And, in that instant,

on the cushion of silk, reclined,

she also smiles, she, the adored,

smiles to Marcus Antonius, that staring

the sight in her glance, goes throwing

with the tips of the satiny fingers,

his more tender, his more flaming,

more sensual and sonorous kisses,

full of fire and full of desires...