Girate occhi, girate
A miei che tanto pregano
Gli sguardi che non piegano
Giamai verse pietate
Che se da lor si tolgono
Occhi, a ragion si dolgono.
In sul mattin d’Aprile
Quando i nembi tranquillano
Fresche rose sfavillano
D’un vermiglio gentile
E così dolce odorano
Che zeffiro inamorano.
Vergini peregrine
Come lor s'avvicinano,
Così liete destinano
Farne corono al crine;
Al crine, onde incatenano
I cor, ch'a morte menano.
English translation
Turn your eyes, oh turn them
to mine, that long so much
for the glances they can never
soften with compassion,
and, if they tear themselves away,
my eyes must fill with tears.
On April mornings
when rainclouds have dispersed,
fresh roses sparkle,
softly crimson,
and so fragrant is their scent
that Zephyr falls in love with them.
Lovely girls,
when they espy them,
joyfully resolve to weave them
into garlands for their hair,
garlands with which they bind
our hearts and lead us to death.