I do not hear my footsteps in the silent alley 
Where my Dream leads me;
It is the hour of silence and light.
The sky is exactly [like] a curtain of pearls. 
The cypresses gain that sky with their dark tops:
Motionless, without crying; but they are sad,
But the cypresses are not as sad
As the tombs.
The country around me is unknown, almost shapeless,
Inhabited by a most ancient mystery,
Where my thought is lost
Walking through the silent alley.
I do not hear my footsteps,
I am like a shadow;
My pain is like a shadow;
And all my life like a vague shadow,
Uncertain, indistinct, nameless.