I embraced the summer dawn.
Nothing was stirring yet on the fronts of the palaces.
The water was dead.
The crowds of shadows had not yet left the woodland road.
I walked, waking vivid warm breaths, and the precious stones looked up,
and wings rose without a sound.
The first adventure, on the path already full of cool pale gleams,
was a flower that told me its name.
I smiled at the blond dishevelled waterfall among the fir trees:
on the silvered peak I recognised the Goddess.
Then I lifted the veils one by one.
In the lane, waving my arms.
On the plain where I denounced her to the cockerel.
In the city, she fled among bell-towers and domes, and,
running like a beggar across the marble quays, I chased after her.
At the top of the road, near a laurel wood,
I surrounded her with her gathered veils, and I felt her vast body a little.
Dawn and the child fell down at the foot of the wood.
