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                                                                      Hic tamen hâc mecum poteris requiescere nocte
                                                                      fronde super viridi: Sunt nobis mitia poma,
                                                                      castaneae molles, et pressi copia lactis.
                                                                                          (Virgilio, Égloga I)


                                                            Quédate ja conmigo, hoje e sempre,
                                                       non te vaias. Eu terei pra tí
                                                       canto n-estes eidos hai. Castañas
                                                       doces, soaves, mazás das millores,
                                                       de crás varia e sabor como a mel.
                                                            Terás leite presa a mais amante,
                                                       mungida no establo farturento
                                                       do mais rico dono da comarca.
                                                            Sobre o céspede mol, nesta noite,
                                                       sou o ceu d'estrelas namorado,
                                                       na vasta quietú da Natureza,
                                                       no colo diviño dos silenzos,
                                                       juntáranse os nosos corazós
                                                       n'un nú eterno, coma as nosas almas
                                                       estaban, ô vir ô mundo, unidas.
                                                            Baijo o dosel de ceo, no amplexo
                                                       inmortal do noso amor bendito
                                                       no altar ingente da Natureza,
                                                       os campos frolecerán de rosas,
                                                       os arbres de froita adunia, mestos,
                                                       como ofrenda de milagro â vida,
                                                       e dirán os élitros do mundo
                                                       a gloria insenescente do Amor.

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