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.
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