Departed the pride and the glory of Mardi:
The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea,
That rolls o'er his corpse with a hush.
His warriors bend over their spears,
His sisters gaze upward and mourn.
Weep, weep, for Adondo, is dead!
The sun has gone down in a shower;
Buried in clouds in the face of the moon;
Tears stand in the eyes of the starry skies,
And stand in the eyes of the flowers;
And streams of tears are the trickling brooks,
Coursing adown the mountains.—
Departed the pride, and the glory of Mardi:
The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea.
Fast falls the small rain on its bosom that sobs.—
Not showers of rain, but the tears of Oro.