Flowers

Thrush


Lily of the valley: The lily of the valley



The singing of virgins
Della convalle son,
beautiful of your candor,
among all the flowers, or lily,
you speak to me in the heart.
Your gentle fragrance
do not refuse me in don,
match the room
where I am solitary
No one who takes off
to your graceful stel
the painful glasses
that the heaven made you.
For me of limpid'onda
fed in on the morning,
your motherly side
not obliasti alfin?
Ouch! Removed from your companions
kidnapped from his native land,
you may even complain
exile meco and sol.
Peace; your distress consoles;
you did to my simml:
I am deserted and alone
I was in my first april!
From a secret care
my heart languished:
no longer serene and pure
It is the dawn of my dm.
I seem to have kidnapped myself
were from another sole,
a time for my life
the sol is brighter.
Or here looking in vain
a refreshment I saw;
I seem to be far away
who can console me.
Peace, your grief consoles;
you did to my simil:
I am deserted and alone
I was in my first april.
Deh! that a core benefits me
that no one intends to know?
To you what good, o flower
your kind belt?
Fragile is the gift, or lily,
that to both God trusted:
to an eyelash girar
vanish forever and can.
But among the eternal ranks
there is no angel
that by more storm
do you keep me?
How much he lives and breathes
has in its protection the sky:
the man breathes for him,
green is for him the stel.
God of his treasures
off to his children every time
my virtue refreshments,
comfort your vigor,
and we agree with him
vorrem tribute offer:
you perfume tui,
and I of my sighs.
F. FROM THE NARROW