Mourn, o Venus and Cupid,
and as many beautiful people as exist:
my girlfriend’s sparrow is dead,
the sparrow, my girlfriend’s delight,
which she loved more than her own eyes:
for it was so sweet and it knew her
as a girl knows her mother:
and it didn’t move itself away from her lap,
but jumped about here and there,
and would chirp only at its mistress.
Now it goes on a journey through the darkness,
to that place whence, they say, nobody returns.
But! may it be your downfall, o evil darknesses of
Orcus, who devours everything beautiful:
you took away from me such a beautiful sparrow.
Alas at this evil! Alas, poor sparrow!
Now, due to your work, my girlfriend’s
little swollen eyes are red with tears.