On the wall of crumbling bulwark
In a thoughtful meditation,
Satanella now is sitting
With her black hair loosely flying.
Round her shoulders merged the tresses
In a sea of dark-hued billows
Blending with the yellow grasses,
With the leaves of dark spread ivy.
Satanella thus was resting:
White bare limbs were freely dangling
O'er the wall among acacia's
Sweetly scented snow-white flowers.
Shaking with her every movement
Dewy pearls off the blossoms.
Long, long while she thus was sitting.
What she thought of, hard to fathom,
But a lengthy meditation
Was for her no pleasant duty.
Soon she shook her flowing tresses,
Upturned palms received her forehead,
And with smile upon her features
She gazed at the bluish mountains.
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