‘Gli occhi di ch'io parlai sí caldamente,'
The eyes I spoke about so warmly,
and the arms, the hands, the ankles, and the face
that left me so divided from myself,
and made me different from other men:
the crisp hair of pure shining gold
and the brightness of the angelic smile,
which used to make a paradise on earth,
are now a little dust, that feels no thing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem