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       The sea wind blows her shining chestnut hair  
             That flows as from a hidden mountain spring,
             Which, as the skylark rising on the wing,
       Flies heavenward up, as if in homage rare.

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        I follow with my eyes this lady fair
             Who walks along the beach and gently sings,
             Quite unaware of all the joy she brings,
         But of my presence she is unaware.

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              This heavenly vision glides before my eyes; 
              Then, as a sunbeam plays its devilish tricks,
               She seems to vanish quickly without trace.

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               But is she but an angel in disguise?
               I search the empty beach with eyes transfixed
               But never more will see her lovely face.

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