I am the force capable of everything,
I am the eternal youthful Spring
which proceeds, rejuvenates and elucidates
through time and age.
And unto the old I cometh,
I exhale upon  the fading breath,
and new roses, new delights
I ever pass on them.
 
Born in hovel or castle,
clothed in frieze, or stood on silk,
strewn with flowers or with powder,
I remain for ever the same.
I eternally summon the roses up
out of the course of days gone by
and create the hopes of the coming spring
in autumn’s evening flame.
 
And memory is my joyful name,
and my haven is the heart of man.
The century is my bosom
once more bursts in bloom.
And joyful be the one whose fleeting day
is inscrib’d upon my countenance
with unwithering delight,
when the evenings begin to darken.