I knew very well that this small valley planted with olive trees was not Tempe, but I was reaching the age when each beauteous place recalls another, fairer still, when each delight is weighted with the memory of past joys.
Banekien, noski, olibondoz landaturiko ibar txiki hau ez dela Tenpekoa, baina iritsia nintzen adin horretara non leku eder bakoitzak beste ederrago baten gomuta baitakar, non atsegin bakoitza beste atsegin iraganen pisuaz zamatzen baita.