Have you heard the chicopei playing
when spring blooms in white,
the tit with its passionate trills,
chirping of a swallow in flight.
Are you intoxicated with the smell of weed
with the scent of wild violets,
a bunch of pearls in the dark forest
with which samodives joke.
Have you been kissed in the early morning
from the sun bathed in dew,
when a gentle breeze blows
and gently strokes your hair.
Do you go to sleep at night tired,
when a nightingale in love sings outside,
by the spring swallowed up, subjugated,
in the distant moon his eyes sunk.