No, it is not for man to adore such a beauty,
the earth, the universe, and all its spaces,
the miracles of God and all the blood spilled,
the passion for the just, they are no worthy mirror,
no more than a broken armor, to the beauty of thy face!
Is it even possible to name such a maiden?
When the ecstasy of moonlight in a flamboyant starry night,
and the warmth of benevolent winter mornings
bow in grand humility, for that little smile of yours
that Venus in merciless disposition, has previously worn!
The wars of fallen men, the walls of mighty kings,
the might of great oceans, in death, in eternity, in love,
and in the grandeur of Mozart's everlasting sonata,
in the glory of your deep brown eyes, are silently born.