A chi sercna io miro,
Chiaro รจ di notte il cielo:
Torna per lui nel gelo
La terra a germogliar.
Ma se a taluno io giro
Torbido il guardo, e fosco,
Fronde gli niega il bosco,
Onde non trova in mar.
Translation
To him whom kindly I behold,
The midnight sky is clear,
And 'mid the wintry frost and cold,
The blushing flowers appear.
But to the wretch who meets my eye,
When kindled by disdain,
The very grove will leaves deny,
And waveless be the main.