She swaddled body
Laid down in the young forest.
It is from the pangs rejuvenated,
Bыvaluyu restored beauty.
It is not noisy and outspoken,
anxiously, in short fingers
The last time the old Archangel
Puts white flowers.
Zlata distant peaks
Farewell gleam dawn,
And above the mists of the valley
Stand up dead three kings.
they brought, as in the days gone by,
other, late star.
I stallions, already gray,
as of old, are driven with hot flocks.
And guards eternal rest
Valley intercede haze.
Only between the stars and the dawn
Zlata halos without number.
And above, the steep ravines
sings creek, almond blossoms,
And over the open sarcophagus
Grave Angel looks into the distance.
4 June 1909
Spoleto
