Barcarole

At the ends of the dropping oars

trembles and sparkles a shimmering radiance,

that flees at each stroke with a flash

and dances from wave to wave.

Within my breast, from the bliss of love,

my heart trembles and sparkles like the water,

rejoicing to the stars and sun,

shaking to go away in the surging glow.

Already on the rocks, through the green of the plane trees,

I see the columned roof,

and the shimmering light on the balcony

lets me know that my sweetheart is still awake.

Fly, my boat, and hide us silently;

conceal us, blissful night of August;

Sweet it is to rock on the waves,

but sweeter it is to rock against her breast.