Oh, tender carnation,
oh, purple rose,
oh you, all sweet-smelling,
gentle, and dazzling,
and pure as May,
give me straight away
a tiny bit of your life,
so that I could, of this aurora,
have at least a gleam.

Give me the clearness,
give me the delight,
the blessed joy
that shines in your eyes,
with such softness,
that makes your dominion
the sweetest relief
for whom feels like being in the darkness,
exhausted and consumed.

If you are the all-flowery
as a branch green again,
be then the sheer fruit-bearing,
like a sunbathed branch,
and give me the sweetness
of fruit fully ripe,
which, in your lips, aims to
make quite mysterious
the delight of a stolen kiss.

Be like a branch
lush and forthright,
and not so greedy
of this love, so clear,
that you have in your heart.
Give it all to me, lady,
give it to me in good time,
as the lavish branch
gives its fruits every summer.