The nymph's lament

The Sun had not brought

The day to the world yet,

When a maiden

Went out of her dwelling.

On her pale face

Grief could be seen,

Often from her heart

A deep sigh was drawn.

Thus, treading upon flowers,

She wandered, now here, now there,

And lamented her lost loves

Like this:

- O Love - she said,

Gazing at the sky, as she stood -

Where's the fidelity

That the deceiver promised? -

Poor her!

- Make my love come back

As he used to be

Or kill me, so that

I will not suffer anymore. -

Poor her! She cannot bear

All this coldness!

- I don't want him to sigh any longer

But if he's far from me.

No! He will not make me suffer

Anymore, I swear!

He's proud

Because I languish for him.

Perhaps if I fly away from him

He will come to pray to me again.

If her eyes are more serene

Than mine,

O Love, she does not hold in her heart

A fidelity so pure as mine.

And you will not receive from those lips

Kisses as sweet as mine,

Nor softer. Oh, don't speak!

Don't speak! you know better than that! -

So amidst disdainful tears,

She spread her crying to the sky;

Thus, in the lovers' hearts

Love mixes fire and ice.