In summer, when day has fled, the plain covered with flowers pours out an intoxicating perfume far off; with closed eyes, with ears partially open to sounds, One only half-sleeps with a transparent slumber.
The stars are purer, the darkness more inviting; A vague half-light tints the eternal dome; And the sweet and pale dawn, awaiting its time, Seems to be wandering low in the sky all night.
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