I am alone, in the shade of a tree's naked branches. In winter the sun comes and goes like the echoes of voices. I want to understand. I want to say something before the wind blows through my hair and transforms me into a whirl, a moment.
The gods left me here alone, their shadows are roaming about the ancient hills and I must say something before I melt. I take refuge in my love. Do not be cruel, evil god, your eyes torment me. I am Agilla, the nymph who loves Trasimeno.
Our life is water now, our tears streamlets in the canebrakes, and death the embrace of the sun on Lake Trasimeno.
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