I
calm black wave where the stars are sleeping White Ophelia floats like
The large lily, Swing
very slowly, lying in her long veils ...
They feel far cry from the woods hunting.
More than a thousand years sad Ophelia
Pass, white ghost, in the long black river;
more than a thousand years her sweet madness
mutters a romance to the evening breeze.
The wind kisses her breasts and spreads corolla
Her great veils, tenderly cradled by the waters;
The shivering willows weep on her shoulder, his big face
On the dreamy tipped twigs.
tap water lilies around the sigh;
Sometimes she wakes up in a sleeping alder,
A nest from which escapes a small wing with anger:
A mysterious hand down from the stars of gold.
II O pale Ophelia! Beautiful as snow!
you died a child, kidnapped by a river!
winds sealed by large mountains of Norway
We had talked about the tremendous freedom
And a breath, twisting the big hair, In your mind dreaming
wore strange rustling;
your heart to hear the song of Nature In
groans of the tree and the sighs of the night, The Cry of the seas
crazy, huge gasp,
shattered your child's breast, too sweet and human
And one morning in April, a fine gentleman pale
A poor fool, he sat mute at your knees.
Heaven! Love! Freedom! What a dream, or poor Fool!
you melted the snow for him to fire: Your great visions
strozzavan you the words and the terrible
Infinite upset your blue eyes!
III
And the poet says that the rays of the stars Come
to look for the night, the flowers that cogliesti,
And he has seen on the water, lying in her long veils White Ophelia
The swaying like a great lily.
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