Madonna serenella waits on the chair, the fire in the fireplace, she knows it will get up.
The book on her legs, her hands in the basin, the moon is in the well: the moment is near.
A mouse bends over the head and - Hello my queen, the day is approaching but the frost will help -.
The rain knocks on the door, the pear tree dances in the wind, blessed is he who is happy, blessed is he who doesn't know.
The right moves the water, misses it in three doilies, the lady waits for the hour, the story is already at the end and the guest who arrives rides on a strand of moon and his brown winged dress is made for him.
The angel is coming

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