In one kiss, the wave

In one kiss, the wave

speaks its grief to the shore:

To console the wild flower

the dawn has tears;

The evening breeze describes its grievances

To the ancient cypress trees,

The turtle-dove voices to the terebinth

Its many regrets.

To the dormant waves, when all is quiet,

Without pain,

The moon speaks, and explains the reason

For its pallor.

Your white dome, Saint Sophia,

Speaks to the blue sky,

And, ever dreaming, the sky confides

Its dream to God.

Tree or tomb, dove or rose,

Wave or rock,

Everything here below, has something

To pour forth...

But me, I am alone, and nothing on earth

Ever responds to me;

Nothing but your doleful and intense voice,

Gloomy Hellespont!