From the gardens of night the stars are flying away,
Golden bees attracted by an invisible honey, 
And the dawn, extending the whiteness of its cloth in the distance,
Weaves with silver threads the blue cloak of the sky. 

From the garden of my heart intoxicated by a slow dream,
My desires fly away upon the steps of morning, 
Like a light swarm called in the copper horizon, 
By a plaintive, eternal and faraway song. 

They fly to your feet, those stars chased from the clouds,
Exiled from the golden sky where your beauty flourishes
And, seeking unknown paths toward you, 
Mingle their dying light with the dawning sky.