Bm-1850b-2

                                                         Voltros que sempre plorau,

                                                         Y voltros qui malheiu,

                                                         Perque may contents estau,

                                                         De lo que del cel teniu;

                                                         Veniu aquí y escoltau

                                                         Lo que aquest cuento vos diu...

Veniu.

                                                         Axó era un hermitá,

                                                         Que lluñy de ciutat vivía,

                                                         Uns diuen que prop d’ Artá,

                                                         Altres de Santa María;

                                                         Lo cert es, per no cansá,

                                                         Que ciutad no ‘l conexía.

Havía

                                                         Per se muntaña viscut,

                                                         Entre pinars amagàt,

                                                         Entre garrigas perdút,

                                                         Just lo mateix qu’ enterrat,

                                                         De s’ auba de juventút

                                                         Fins á sa derrera edat.

Donat

                                                         A vida santificada,

                                                         Es per ell aquell desert

                                                         Del mon sa millor posada;

                                                         Y contra ‘l pecat despert

                                                         Te cad’ hora consagrada

                                                         A Deu de qui n’ está cert.

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