Like the beautiful bodies of those who died before growing old, sadly shut away in sumptuous mausoleum, roses by the head, jasmine at the feet — so appear the longings that have passed without being satisfied, not one of them granted a single night of pleasure, or one of its radiant mornings.
Corpi belli di morti, che vecchiezza non colse: li chiusero, con lacrime, in mausolei preziosi, con gelsomini ai piedi e al capo rose. Tali sono le brame che trascorsero inadempiute, senza voluttuose notti, senza mattini luminosi.
