By the Arno

The oleander on the wall

Grows crimson in the dawning light,

Though the grey shadows of the night

Lie yet on Florence like a pall.

The dew is bright upon the hill,

And bright the blossoms overhead,

But ah! the grasshoppers have fled,

The little Attic song is still.

Only the leaves are gently stirred

By the soft breathing of the gale,

And in the almond-scented vale

The lonely nightingale is heard.

The day will make thee silent soon,

O nightingale sing on for love!

While yet upon the shadowy grove

Splinter the arrows of the moon.

Before across the silent lawn

In sea-green vest the morning steals,

And to love's frightened eyes reveals

The long white fingers of the dawn

Fast climbing up the eastern sky

To grasp and slay the shuddering night,

All careless of my heart's delight,

Or if the nightingale should die.

阿尔诺河畔

墙上的夹竹桃

在晨光中显得深红，

但夜晚的灰影

如同一块殓布覆盖佛罗伦萨。

小山布满晶莹的露滴，

头顶花丛也是一片晶亮，

但是，哦!蝗虫已飞走，

古雅的小曲多么温柔。

只有树叶轻轻摇曳

迎着熙和的微风，

在扁桃溢香的山谷，

传来夜莺孤独的歌声。

白昼很快将令你沉寂，

哦，夜莺为了爱情而歌唱，

月亮射出它的箭矢，

洞穿那一片幽暗的树丛。

早晨穿着海绿色的内衣

溜过安谧的林中空地，

向爱人惊恐的眼眸展示

那疾速攀爬到东方天际的

黎明伸出白皙的长手指

抓紧并扼杀颤栗的夜，

全然忽略我内心的欣悦，

不顾夜莺可能因此而死去。