To a fountain

Listen to me, living fountain,

from whom I oft have drunk,

flat on my belly overlooking your bank,

lazy in the cool breeze

while the summer harvests

Ceres' unclad breast

and the air whimpers

beneath the beaten wheat.

So may you always be

in religion to all those

who drink from you or who pasture

their cattle on your green banks.

So may nymphs

forever dance

around you

in the moonlit midnights.