In the ruins of an abbey

Alone together, singing, enraptured,

how we

love one another!

We harvest the springtime

that God sows!

What sparkling laughter fills

these shadowy ruins

which once housed pale foreheads

and sombre hearts.

We are newly wed,

we exchange

the charming, varied cries

that spring from joy -

these fresh echoes mingle

with the quivering breeze,

a gaiety to which the dark abbey

adds zest.

We pluck petals of jasmine

on the marble sculpture

where the abbess holds her hands

in prayer.

The tombs, marked by crosses,

are a part of these games,

and so are one or two

stings from nettles.

We play at hide-and-chase;

we feel the morning

of Love grow brighter in the night

of the old cloister.

We go along cuddling,

adoring one another;

at every moment we kiss,

and kiss again;

under the pillars, the arches

and the statues,

it's the story

of the birds and the bees.