I said to the stars, 
 "She is your sister, 
 and your unveiled eyes 
 do not hold as much sweetness 
 as the damp spark 
 in hers that comes 
 from her heart." 
 
 I said to the rose, 
 "Borrow from her! 
 Her half-open mouth 
 and her brown hair
 have such a sweet breath 
 that they easily excel 
 your sweetest perfumes."
 
 I said to the breeze 
 that dies in the woods, 
 and to the water that sometimes 
 breaks and sings: 
 "Her voice is purer 
 than your murmuring. 
 Imitate her voice."
 
 I said to the dawn: 
 "Your eastern sky 
 could be 
 a hundred times brighter 
 if you knew how to borrow 
 the sweet, tender brilliance 
 of her laughing brow!"