How dim the light that burns
Into the cellar small – and cramped
How dim the light that burns
This summer night.
How humid-hot and heavy the air is:
To breathe is difficult
In the tentacles of nocturnal heat
How dim the light that burns
Where La Fornarina stays tonight.
And Cupid needs no arrows more
For love so reigns
No arrow of his is needed;
So Cupid looks and spies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem