Solitary.

A man alone.

Looks at the atmosphere,

Heavenly, perpetual, sublime

How, in a thousand years,

Would men believe

Of the beauty?


Nature, her flowers,

Reflected the best hour.


Nature made the poet.

The sun illuminates the spirit.

Heaven and earth, his daily food.


Nature, a wild creature

Breathless, incredible

In my thoughts, a perfect exhilaration.


In the woods,

Is a perennial festival,

And the guest is me.


Uplifted,

I become an eyeball.

I see all.

I am immortal.