needling by the lake, she seeks me deafly,  
pure warm, and watery grave, gently released me of the week
to sleep, and to my flesh, I put to work, I kiss.
to be just with idleness or just with  laughter.

whose blue eyes are fairy, like the landscape
and with each day, I come to seek you,
she finds in me the cures,
oh gently, let's me down to you mirra, mirra, mirra.