‘Ov'è la fronte, che con picciol cenno'

Where is the forehead, that could make my heart turn
this way and that, with the slightest gesture?
Where are the beautiful lashes and the two stars
that gave their light to my life's path?
Where is the worth, the knowledge and the wit,
the modest, honest, humble, sweet speech?
Where are the beauties focused in her,
that had their way with me so long?
Where is the gentle shadow of a human face
that gave its hour of rest for my weary soul,
and where my every thought was written?
Where is she who held my life in her hand?
How this wretched world and how my eyes
miss her, that have no hope of ever being dry!

Translated by: A. S. Kline