near places, where reigns Venice A gilded,
One, night rower, gondola driving,
In the light of Vesper seaside swimming,
Rïnalda, Godfreda, Hermine sings.
He loves his song, He sings for fun,
Without further intent; He knows neither glory,
our fear, any hope, quiet and full of muse,
He knows how to delight its way over the abyss waves.
Sea life, where the storm so violently
Haunted in the mist of my sail lonely,
How is he, without Review consoling me sing
And secret love poetry to ponder.
