Come, all the earth,
wreathed in nuptial Spring,
celebrate your master's marriage;
let every wood with its rivers,
let every abyss sing.

    Ligurian fields, show your favor,
Venetian mountains, show your favor,
and with sudden fields of roses
let the Alpine peak be clothed,
and the frost grow red.

    Let the river Adige resound with choruses 
and the winding Mincio
murmur softly with its reeds
and the Po harmonize
with its amber-bearing alders ;

 ... 

    Storms of the north wind,
of the wild northwest wind, fall silent;
let the loud south wind fall silent.
Let the eastern breeze alone
rule throughout this joyous year.