In the house chosen by our love as its
birth-place, with its cherished furniture
peopling the shadows and the nooks, where we live
together, having as sole witnesses the roses that
watch us through the windows,
Certain days stand out of so great a consolation,
certain hours of summer so lovely in their
silence, that sometimes I stop time that swings
with its golden disc in the oaken clock.
Then the hour, the day, the night is so much ours
that the happiness that hovers lightly over us
hears nothing but the throbbing of your heart and
mine that are brought close together by a sudden
embrace.