Cheerful hymns run space out,

cantative, as betrothed´s kisses,

cheerful as boys' laughters

They are, with certainty, damsels' songs,

that are beautiful as angels and houris.

They left their little mouths

They come waving out through the space,

in search of a chest that shelters them,

of a chest that lives in the dawn of the love

I wanted to welcome, intimately,

those love hymns, in my chest,

but I didn't get it: I only have them