Thou risest and kissest, O Goddess, with rosy breath, the clouds,
Kissest the dusky pinnacles of marble temples.
The forests feel thee and with a cool shiver awake;
Up soars the falcon flashing in eager joy.
Meanwhile amid the wet leaves mutter the garrulous nests,
And far off the grey gull screams over the purple sea.
First to delight in thee, down in the laborious plain,
Are the streams which glisten amid the rustling poplars.
Daringly the sorrel colt breaks away from his feeding,
Runs to the brooks with high-lifted mane, neighing in the wind.