1. If the rose dies, it only loses
Its brightness, color and fragrance,

2. While its scent remains, whenever
A breeze blows from its perfumed side.

3. The rose does not perish with death, even
If it wilts and its branches wither,

4. And its gathering of wishes is gone,
Along with dreams of blue serenity.

5. What is mine will vanish with me,
Not even sparing this wearying pain,

6. Yet my love endures like that aroma,
As if he were a phantom of blue felicity.