The poet: But even the muse wishes my auditory fell asleep:
In trembling rhyme, in mule’s rhythm I look for magic sound
While there, burning sunshine did quickly steep
In the silent green of our crying valley round;
Who brought in heaven the secret flame from hell?
What a heartless heat, just saints, heroes, wise men can endure!
A dream of life without death, and youth without old age, in which we dwell;
Against a multitude of evil’s temptations but our love is sure.
But with the devil’s tzuica, the love in love with me can tire;
One day I touched the sleeping muse’s breast and learnt the rest:
As fire, drink, the women and other dangerous things of much desire;
I asked the muse to be my merry guest, and did it at our best.
The dream of death is life, except the dream to live that light
Whose verse was built from the beginning fire:
love at first sight.