To be sure, had we lived in the year seventeen hundred and sixty,
Isn't that the date you see, Anna, on this stone bench

And by some mischance, if I’d been German
But through good luck I’d been close to you
We would’ve spoken of love in an imprecise way
almost always in French 
And hanging passionately on my arm
You would’ve listened to me tell you of Pythagoras
While also thinking about coffee we would taste
in half an hour

And [that] autumn would've been similar to this autumn
Which, [with] berry bushes and grapevines is crowned

And abruptly at times I would’ve bowed deeply
To noble ladies, both stout and languorous

I would’ve sipped slowly, all alone,
During the long evenings
Some thick Tokay or some Malmsey wine

I would’ve donned my Spanish cape
To go out along the road, where
[She] would arrive in her old carriage
My grandmother who refuses to understand German

I would’ve written verses full of mythology
About you breasts, about pastoral life, and about the ladies
Of the neighborhood

I would’ve loved to have broken my cane
Over the back of a peasant

I would’ve loved to hear music while eating
Some ham 

I would’ve sworn in German, I swear to you,
When you caught me by surprise, kissing on the mouth
That red-haired serving maid

You would’ve pardonned me in the mrytle wood

I would’ve hummed for a moment
Then we would’ve listened for a long time to the sounds of twilight