Here lies Asta, daughter of Bogčin Zlousic, but I don´t want to lie.
How glad I would now at evening
through the fields promenade,
and that kiss which you desired but never got, give you.
Even if the sky fulminate, I would not be sorry, nor shame.
You stranger, don´t touch my stone,
Let those who don´t do, do what I didn´t do,
because I only now know how singe unfulfilled giving.
1422 in summer when happy rejoiced, and I died.
How glad I would now at evening
through the fields promenade,
and that kiss which you desired but never got, give you.
Even if the sky fulminate, I would not be sorry, nor shame.
You stranger, don´t touch my stone,
Let those who don´t do, do what I didn´t do,
because I only now know how singe unfulfilled giving.
1422 in summer when happy rejoiced, and I died.
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