C'è silenzio, e tepore,
in questa romita stanza ov'io ti attendo,
e una purpurea rosa,
già stanca, sul ciglio di languire,
anch'essa ansiosa del tuo bruno sguardo,
così tenera è l'ora
ch'io mi trasmuto in taciturna grazia,
mite rosa,
tepore sulle tue palpebre, carezza d'ombra.
Sibilla Aleramo
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Silence, warmth...
There is silence, and warmth,
in this hermit room I'll wait for you,
and a pink purple rose
already tired, on the edge of languishing,
also anxious of your brown look,
so tender is the time
that I transmute myself in taciturn grace,
gentle rose,
warmth on your eyelids, caress of shadow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem