At CapodimonteUnder these trees a hundred years ago
great ladies danced, the fairest of the fair,
in days when ladies carried ivory fans,
those days of furbelows and powdered hair.
The ready flutes and violins would then
breathe forth the tender melancholy air,
and as they danced they winked their flashing eyes,
eyes filled with mischief, darting here and there...
Those days are now forever fled away,
but why should we be sad, why should we care?
Such lovely women are alive today,
more lovely than the ones of old, I swear!...
Amid the trees the marble statues stand,
wishing to hear the songs they once heard there;
wishing to hear the music, reawakened
sparrows and blackbirds long to learn the air.
The music speaks, on a waltz’s billowing crests:
“Dear girls, what is time? Live pleasantly.
When you sense the hearts of men beat in their breasts,
consider, girls, you are sensing me!
Who can keep back the years that disappear?
Youth dies away: who can revive it then?