(Little girl, let us go see whether the rose, which this morning had opened its dress of crimson to the sun,
Did not lose this evening the folds of its purple dress and its complexion so similar to yours...
Alas! see how, in such little time, its beauties have dropped...
Oh, truly the mantle of Nature, since such a flower does not last from morning until the evening...
However thus, listen to me, little girl: while your age blossoms in its greener freshness, gather, gather your youth;
As with this flower, old age will tarnish your beauty)