Waters of gentle Tagus, calmly flowing
Through these green fields ye freshen as ye flow,
On flocks and herds, plants, flowers, all things that grow,
On shepherds and on nymphs delight bestowing;
I know not, ah! sweet streams, despair of knowing
When I shall come again; for as I go,
And ponder why, ye fill me with such woe,
That in my heart a deep distrust is growing.
The Fates have e'en decreed this sad adieu,
Aiming to change my joys into despair,
This sad adieu that weighs upon my years:
Of them complaining, yearning after you,
With sighs I shall invade some distant air,
And trouble other waters with my tears.