Plebeian lands full of sighs,
Majestically throbbing like the life-giving
Arethusa, idyllically calm,
A fragrant embodiment of a muse.
I long to run aground, take up the lute,
And by example of our forefathers,
Weave arrases of thoughts. The sailboats
Return to the course of decency on the winds
Of bygone practice, as I myself returned,
Meandering and forever dropped the anchor…