Let the heavens be silent,
the earth, the sea, the winds.
Mountains, valleys, echoes
and the sons of birds, keep silent!
Phoebus of the long and beauteous hair is coming.
Father of the dawn, with eye of dazzling white,
you, with the glorious golden tresses,
lead your rosy chariot along the limitless roads of the sky,
following the winged footprints of the steeds,
intertwining your curling rays,
surrounding the whole earth with your resplendent light.
Your rivers of immortal fire give life to the smiling day.
For your, the imperturbable chorus of stars dances on Olympus
accompanying their free melody on Phoebus' lyre;
and in front, the pale Moon leads the rhythmic times
of the seasons by the cadenced movement of white calves.
Your benevolent spirit rejoices in turning the myriad-robed earth.
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