It was summer, the sky imbued,
With iridescent sheen and delightful glare,
All joy and all love soars up there,
A sight at which, the poet, wooed,
To summer's personage, I allude,
Sweet protectress of the Earth,
Circling sacred flower's girth,
In which passion gestates and broods,
Like in the face of an exquisitely painted ****.

Suns blazed in a blinding glory,
Drops of light adorn the sun,
A sight for which no soul is sorry,
Through her the cosmic fires run,
Which warms every heart and every meadow,
From exterior to the core,
Touching even shadows,
That feel the light no more;
Light and dark at war.