Capitolo 75
His/her rosy face smiled down kindly,
As the worm without friends drew nearby;
And his/her low voice, slightly whispering, says
"Poor thing, you art welcomes here cordially;
Closes to my side in the green and soft musk,,
You fade discovered a calm bed,
Where you the canst slightly sleep up to Spring,
With mine he/she leaves expansion of thee on.
I am sorry for and I love thee, worm without friends,
Although you the art not graced or correctly;
For a lot of one dark, form of unlovely,
Hath some heart of kind that indulges there;
Any more o'ers the green and pleasant earth,
Solitary and poor, shalt you the turn,
For a hast of the loving friend you found in me,
And he/she remains in my small house."
Then, deep in his/her mossy and calm bed,
Protected alone and shower,
The thankful worm rotated its grave in winter,
In the shade of the flower.
It is Clover it protected well his/her rest,
You cultivate the leaves in autumn they were clairvoyant,
You cultivate all of his/her flowers of sister you/they had gone,
And its sleep in winter drew nearby.
Then its faded leaves were slightly shed
O'er the worm rest under,
Before the small disposition of faithful flower
Under of the snow in winter.
Spring came again, and the rose of flowers
Them give graves in winter quiet,
It is gayly they danced on their slender stems,
And it sang with the waves that ripple.
Slightly the warm winds were kissed the cheeks;
Brightly the sunbeamses fell,
As, one to the time, they came again
In their houses in summer to indulge.
And the small Clover once more it bloomed,
Rosy, and sweet, and equitable,
And it patiently bewared of the mossy bed,
For the worm still slept there.
Then his/her sister disdainfully blooms weeping,
As they rippled in the air in summer,
"The ugly worm was without friends and poor man;
Small Clover, because shouldst you the care?
Then you look at anybody more, neither indulges alone,
Away from flowers of sister of thy;