Take this rose, lovely as yourself,
Who are like a rose beside the prettiest roses,
Who are like a flower beside the freshest flowers,
Who are like a Muse to the Muses and to me.

Take this rose, and with it accept
Into your breast my heart, which has no wings:
It lives, hurt by a hundred deep wounds
Determined to keep the firmest faith with you.

The rose and I, we differ in one way:
One day sees the rose born and die
But a thousasnd days have watched my love born

Which consumes me will never die.
But would to God that this love blossoming 
Like a flower, had lasted me but a day.