In my infancy she loved me
And I handed seven-harp.
She listened to me with a smile - and slightly,
By ringing wells empty cane,
Already I was playing weak fingers
And hymns important, inspired by the gods,
And the songs of peaceful Phrygian shepherds.
From morning to evening in the silent shadows of the oaks
I listened diligently learned maiden mystery,
AND, delighting me random reward,
Throwing tresses of sweet brow,
Myself from my hands, she took the flute.
Reed was animated by divine breath
And my heart is filled with the Holy charm.
