With what artifice so divine salts
Of that fine emerald shirt,
Oh heavenly pink Alejandrina,
Crowned with oriental grains!
Already in rubies you light, already in corals,
And your color to purple tilts
Sitting on that pilgrim base
Which form five unequal points.
Well, there is your divine author, for you move
To his contemplation the thought,
To even think about our brief years.
Thus the green age is scattered to the wind,
And so the hopes are vain
Which have on earth the foundation …
Lope de Vega