Eros’ eyes have stunned me again with a melting glance from beneath his darkened lids; he uses every spell to entangle me in the Cyprian’s endless net. Seeing him approach, I shudder, like an aging horse, a champion charioteer, yoked to his speedy car and reluctantly nearing the gate.
Ancora Eros! Sotto ciglia azzurre e languidi sguardi, maliardo, nelle reti di Cipride mi scaglia, avvolto. E io tremo: come un vecchio purosangue, avvezzo alle vittorie, ormai vecchio, contro voglia, tra i carri ancor gareggia.
