1. O festival, since you came, no vigour nor rain,
The land is gloomy and the horizon is overcast,

2. In our throats, stories have died for us
And letters touched by frivolity and arrogance,

3. O festival, how many in the world are lost and secluded
To misguidance, unaware of the damage it causes,

4. And how can hearts deadened
To joy be opened, when our loneliness is dying?