Se L'aura Spira

If the breeze blows all charmingly, the fresh smiling rose is there, the shady hedge of beautiful emeralds in the hot summer fears no harm.

To dances, to dances, come joyfully, beloved nymphs, flowers of beauty. Now that the lovely fountain flows so clearly from the high mountain to the sea. To singing, to singing, laughing nymphs, drive away the winds of cruelty!

The sweet bird unfolds its verses, and the flowery little tree is there, a beautiful face next to the shade only boasts of having pity.