Already the white violet is in flower and narcissus that loves the rain,
and the lilies that haunt the hillside,
and already she is in bloom, Zenophila, love’s darling,
the sweet rose of Persuasion, flower of the flowers of spring.
Why do you laugh joyously,
O meadows, full of pride in your bright tresses?
More to be preferred than all sweet-smelling posies is she.
Già fiorisce la bionda violaccioccae il narciso fiorisce amante d’acque
e fioriscono i gigli alle colline.
E già, fiore che s’apre in mezzo ai fiori,
dolce rosa di Peito,
Zenofila fiorisce. Perché prati,
ironici, ridete spensierati
scuotendo la chioma? Sì, la fanciulla
vale più delle corone odorose.
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