When you display that rosy cheek, you set the stones aspinning for joy.
Once again put forth your head from the veil, for the sake of the dumbstruck lovers,
That learning may lose the way, that the man of reason may break his science to pieces;
That water through your reflection may convert to a pearl, that fire may abandon warfare.
With your beauty, I desire not the moon, neither those two or three hanging little lanterns.
With your face, I do not call the ancient, rusty heavens a mirror.
You breathed, and created anew in another shape this narrow world.
In desire for his Mars-like eye, play, Venus, again that harp!
