There is not who knows to love fulgent star

more than I love. Everything I sacrifice,

I leave and I abandon to see, in the umbrella

of the night, Sirius in her so rich shine!

And I stay whole hours looking her,

in that charming fulgency of her.

Dazzles more than Phoebus — the great opal,

although old cult this one possesses.

I like to see the Sirius in her shining;

for her I leave everything in abandonment.

Could I do her in the vast empyrean

of stars over the stars royal throne!

Seeing Sirius in the sky I have will

that it be the great, enormous, eternal night.

Beautiful star! In constant darkness

more would shine your supernal light.

The woman is a star, says the old

metaphor of a lyrical poet.

The woman to the star resembles

only when it is of irradiations replete.

She has light, charm, grace and shine:

the very predicates of the stars.

I want these stars in the corset.

Far are those of the sky: I don't want to have them.

The woman is star abundant in shines.

She doesn't have rival in the earth; I don´t see another.

I want her when she is beautiful, sweet and chaste.

I admire the ones of the sky; I don't want them.

Immortal star. Star of the East,

brilliant guide of the faithful Magus Kings!

The woman more than you is attractive,

because she has shines, affections and caresses.

The stars of the sky give me enchantment,

but you, woman, you enchant me, you fascinate me.

The ones of the sky only shine at night, meanwhile

you shine at night and in hours of mornings.

The stars of the sky give us pleasures

at night; they shine when the night is calm;

but the ones of the earth, fulgent women,