The master of the dawn said: - It's strange to be here
on the black lips of the fields, and the evening caught up in between drops,
black trees making me shiver, - Kalos Gheron all dressed up in wet clothes,
blowing hair in the sky and a long beard rooting in the ground,
without cravings and sandals, penetrated by rain, crushed by worries
at the farm, takes the cows to pasture, - the mystery has not left them,
in peace, they ruminate wisely,
the master of the dawn said: - it, also, will snow tomorrow at the fair.
It's morning in the broken smile by tender snow,
heroic, simple, altruistic,
doubtless is sleeping on the branches with the hearing and sight of a partridge,
under the selfish blue sky, a trumpeter improvises,
- the aristocratic fields parade their white robes,
and the deer you saw last night is lying naked on the blind grass,
waiting for the groom in feather flakes to come,
two stars slip in her eyelashes gently whispering:
- down at the spring the lord of heaven cries out to us,
the time to receive the prayer (until dawn) arrives.
The master of the dawn said:- with him, I kindly realize how fear drifts far
and how his fantasy rotates, thaws the mist into white locks, (like a trumpeter playing
outside the scene with extinguished effect) at the call of the stars
the lord of heaven calls us.