Bye thank you! The crisis,
the danger has passed,
and the endless pain has
finally ended,
and that fever called living
was overcome in the end.

Sadly, I know
I was stripped of my strength,
and without moving a muscle I
remain stretched out.
Nothing else matters, I feel
that at last I feel better.

And so still I lie
now in my bed
that anyone who saw me
could imagine that I am dead,
could shudder when looking at me
thinking I was dead.

The wailing and moaning,
the crying and the sighs,
were quelled;
and with them the horrible beating
of the heart.
Ah, that horrible,
horrible throbbing!

Dizziness, nausea,
unrelenting pain,
ceased with the fever
that lacerated my brain,
with the fever called live
that burned my brain.

The torture was also calmed,
of all the worst:
that horrible torture
of thirst for the deadly waters
of the cursed river of the Passion;
Well, for this I have drunk
from a water that quenches all thirst.

From a water that flows
with a murmur of lullaby;
a fountain that lies a
few meters underground;
from a cave that is
very close to the ground.

Let it not be foolishly said
that my dwelling is dark
and narrow my bed;
for no man ever
slept in a different bed,
and all of you, to sleep,
will sleep in an identical bed.

My tormented spirit
rests softly, forgetting,
never longing for its roses;
his old yearnings
for myrtle and roses.

For now,
as he lies peacefully,
he imagines a more sacred scent around him;
a scent of pansies,
a scent of rosemary mixed with pansies,
with the leaves of rue
and the beautiful and humble pansies.

And so he lies in peace,
plunged into the endless dream
of Annie’s truth and beauty,
drowned in Annie’s braids.

She kissed me delicately,
she caressed me tenderly,
and I fell asleep softly on her breast,
fast asleep in the sky of her bosom.

When the light was extinguished,
she carefully covered me,
and prayed to the angels
to protect me from all evil:
to the queen of angels
to guard me from all evil.

And so still I lie
in my bed
(knowing her love),
that you imagine that I am dead;
and so peacefully I rest
in my bed (with the love of her in my bosom),
that they imagine that I am dead,
they shudder when they look at me thinking I am dead.

But my heart is brighter
that the stars that dot
the sky in myriads,
because it shines with Annie,
shines with the love of my Annie,
with the thought of the light of my Annie’s eyes!


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