IVY has covered all the wall. How many hours, how many tears, since once we loved? How many days?

No roses now; ivy has torn the vine. Where is thy soul?... Climbing o'er the swallows nests, the ivy has stifled all the manor.

O wind! The roses of old time have filled the well.- Is it there that thou hast hidden, my dead wife?

None answers. Who should answer??... Were it not better listen to the wind singing in the grasses: 'My sweet love'?

Level with the roof the ancient sun, the crimson sun, is through the middle cut so sadly.

Shall I call the gardener? The gardener? It would be better call to Death to mow the grass.

So many memories and so much love, and the sun level with the earth

translated by Jethro Bithell