VOICES returning, cradle us, cradling voices:
Echoes extenuated of what we love as it passes,
Bells of mules turning the mountain passes,
- Voices returning, cradle us, cradling voices.

Intoxicate us, you also, flasks that prison the yore:
Odours in harvests garnered, fleeces shorn from the hours,
Flesh of amber and musk, mouths of gillyflowers,
- Intoxicate us, you also, flasks that prison the yore.

In this morning of winter, and of shadows chill,
In this morning of winter the voice of the lark is still.
- Voices returning, cradle us, cradling voices.

The lilies are cut in the garden, and every rose,
And the irises by the waters, waters morose.
- Intoxicate us, you also, flasks that prison the yore.

translated by Jethro Bithell