1. The night has come, leaving Nicola in his tomb,
While the people of brass continually mourn his loss.

2. Noble he was, for he made virtues weep as
The verses and pages wept after him.

3. The clouds water his grave each day,
And angels of the Merciful surround his burial place.

4. You bid him peace when evening comes, chronicling
Forever your mercies for him each dawn.