Love, what does it smell? It seems when you love yourself,
That the whole world is rumoured to spring.
Dry leaves turn and branches with snow,
And he is still hot and young, smelling of the eternal rose.
Everywhere opens invisible garlands,
All his backgrounds are lyrical –
The woman to his kiss takes on a magical sense
Which, as in the trails, ceaselessly renews itself …
Soul music comes from ideal concerts,
Words of a light breeze among groves;
Sighs and cries, and sighs and tears
Leave like a romantic fresh honeysuckle …