Sei ottavi
Rino Gaetano
Six Eighths
As the starry night came down,
she, wrapped in darkness, dreamed enchanted.
And who will take my hand tonight, my God?
Maybe a boy, my man, or maybe just me.
Far away, the calm and snow-covered mountains,
and the wind that blows, whistling louder, heavier.
And who brushes my lips, who comforts me?
Maybe a grown child or just me alone.
The night passed, the hours flew by fast,
the cold room was already warming with love.
Whoever finds my breasts will win my heart,
whoever meets my seeds will have all my love.
The discreet light spied and created shadows,
while on the sea, a painted moon danced.
Whoever picks my flower, wet with dew,
a prince charming or maybe me, grown or still a child.
As the starry night came down,
she, wrapped in darkness, slept enchanted.
Who will say goodnight to me tonight, my God?
The night, the stars, the moon, or maybe just me.
