Sì, ch’io vorrei morire

Lie with me beneath the olive tree

and there my love give me your mouth’s dark flower.

Let your tongue explore mine like the bee,

leave upon my lips a smear of nectar.

Bend your body's bough, let down your hair,

allow yourself to ripen on my warmth;

Urge my hands to ramble in your garden,

encourage me to try its curious scent.

Mouth, kisses, tongue – let me die!

And as the bliss builds to the brink of pain

and your soul begins to rage and sigh,

perish with you in this shadowed heaven

where the silver leaves shall let us lie

all night, hidden from the wild moon.

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If you want to reproduce this translation in any form, please would you credit me, Charles Marshall, as the author and include this website sites.google.com/site/marshallcharles Thank you.