1. Immersed in the dye of night rides
To the end of the lions, chained like monks,

2. With his right hand the sword-bearer seals
When the wheat of passion has overgrown its reaper.

3. How it turns, how many bodies fallen on earth,
Slain, and how many souls risen to air,

4. Lions, whom at her approach the lions become
Like cattle, when the antelopes mark the meadows.

5. You have delayed, and now is the stillness of the executioner,
Say to the heroes, “Is there one who will fight?”

6. You have returned, how much glorious fortune
You have, and how much coolness of life.

7. Your praise in the horizons has mounted me on wishes,
And estranged me from my distant home.

8. I have measured out my years that went by, but not
One day of meeting with you has passed.