Note 2 — Chapter XVI · THE CRICKET: THE SONG; THE PAIRING
Alexander Teixeira de Mattos translation
In addition to this illusion of distance, which, at the faintest sound of footsteps, is constantly taking us by surprise, we have the purity of the note, with its soft tremolo. I know no prettier or more limpid insect song, heard in the deep stillness of an August evening. How often, per amica silentia lunæ,2 have I lain down on the ground, screened by the rosemary-bushes, to listen to the delicious concert of the harmas!3