1
Die, Florence, Judas,
Get lost in the twilight of a century!
I love you forget the hour,
In the hour of death I will not be with you!
ABOUT, Bella, smeysya over a,
I do not fine the more you!
Rotten wrinkle deathly
Distorted your features!
Wheeze yours car,
Your ugly house,
Europe-wide yellow dust
You betrayed herself!
Ringing in the dust bikes
There, where the holy monk burned,
Where Leonardo dusk Vedal,
Beato dreamed of blue dream!
You magnificent Medici disquieted,
You tread on their lily,
But resurrect itself can not
The dust trading crowding!
Mass prolonged nasal moan
And the putrid smell of roses in the churches -
A whole load of anguish multi-storey -
Sgin in cleaning centuries!
May June 1909
2
Florence, you delicate iris;
For whom I longed one
I love long, hopeless,
All day in the dust of your Cashin!
ABOUT, sweet to recall the hopelessness:
To dream and to live in your wilderness;
Go into your old heat and tenderness
His aging heart…
But we are destined to be separated,
And in distant lands
Your smoky iris will dream,
As my early youth.
June 1909
