Only in stern magnificence shall I look down.
On the bright lake and stream of the sea.
And the glittering of town.
Above the throng of rich kiosks,
Above the towers in triple tires.
Above the domes of the loftiest mosques.
Will the pinnacles of death aspire.

Only years ago, in grave descent,
The traveller sang to those ancient trees.
That Eastern grace delights to plant
In reverence of man´s obsequies.
Time has shed a golden haze
Of memory round the cypress glooms
And gladly we shall review the days,
As we wander amid those alien tombs.

Only other passions rule the soul.
And the familiar names
Admit thoughts beyond control.
Only a tangled web of pride and shame.