In spring, walk with love, side by side
and among the hills sing together;
and follow the path of life,
who are the violets and daisies;
and drink rainwater,
accumulated in the wells,
in bowls made of lilies and narcissus.
In summer, I will lie beside the love
on beds made with bundles of spikes,
having a blanket the firmament
and the moon and the stars for companions.
In autumn, I will love with the vineyards
and sit down at the mill,
contemplate the trees and undressing
of its gilded dress
and the flocks of migratory birds
flying back to the sea.
In winter, I will sit down with love
before the fire and talk
about the events of centuries
and the annals of nations and peoples.
Love will be my mentor in youth,
my support at maturity,
and my comfort in old age.
The love will remain with vinod
until the end of life,
until death arrives,
and the hand of God convenes.