Mildo

I miss you, Myrdo, the enchanting goddess.

I miss the glittering Posillipo of all fires, which stands proudly on its head.

I miss your forehead full of the light of the East.

I miss the purple grapes that mingle with your golden hair.

In your glass, too, I drank myself intoxicated.

Your gaze flashed silently, full of smiles.

People see me praying at the feet of the god of wine.

For the Muse has made me a son of Greece.

I know why the volcano there has erupted again ......

Because you touched it yesterday with your dexterous feet.

The sky is suddenly covered with dust.

Since a Norman duke smashed your clay gods.

Under Virgil's laurel, the pale hydrangea

Always inseparable from the green Eros wood!