Morning

The dawn, dressed in white,

has already opened the door to the sun,

and with pink fingers

caresses the myriads with flowers.

A mysterious trembling seems

to disturb all nature,

yet you will not get up, and vainly

I stand here sadly and sing.

Dress yourself, too, in white

and open the door to your serenader!

Where you are not, all is dark,

where you are, love is born! etc.