Cyclamen: Cyclamen

Assisi on the slope of the patriotic hill
they were both one day
looking at the desert deserts
that autumn would defeat.
But the aura that breathed, a fragrance
unusual brought
not of violet that among the herb room,
because his pass passed:
a gracil stalk rises between stone and rock
and a purple flower
: close to admiring both
with tacit stupor.
that was so lavish with me.
It had the leaves erect, and turned to the ground
the gentle cup,
from which treasure of effluvi disserts itself
which does not have April.
Take, he said, to the companion, take:
gift volgar is not.
Because you smile and you turn red
if I look like you?
Alone for me, as in a stony shore,
only flower is you:
only flower that spreads around me
an aura of virtue.
From the sun it has the fragrance and the food
that flower that from the sole,
as you your peace and your contentment
from heaven you had sol.
Oh! what joy can give you, my angel,
the earth and its treasures,
where every gentle wish is extinguished
just arose in cor.
Let the world laugh at your longings
and keep talking to heaven,
like the petals it holds the Ciclame,
your faithful soul.
And how he pours the odorous cup
on the arid terren
you pour to me, when the anguish is too much
your comfort in sen.