Far on the hill flute-sounds.

Fauns lurk in the marshes,

Where sluggishly the slender nymphs

Rest hidden in reed and seaweed.

In the pond's mirror-glass

Golden butterflies ecstacize,

Quietly an animal with two backs

Moves in the velvety grass.

Sobbing in the birch grove

Orpheus breathes tender love-babble,

Softly and jokingly the nightingales

Join in his song.

Phoebus a flame glows

Still on Aphrodite's mouth,

And drizzled from ambergris scent -

The hour reddens darkly.