Oh! son of poesy,
down the dark sands of earth,
into the living wilderness of the mortals,
you lie in peaceful sleep,
sleep that a divine deserves,
you wrote th emotions of earth,
in the very own accord of life,
just as th mist creeps up the valley,
with the fullest breath of quietness,
you covered the sorrow of the mind,
with the power of words,
and filled minds with ecstacy,
thou art the spring of joy,
and my idol of poesy,
thou art the soul of the poet,
and mine too.