The fountain shivers lightly in the rain,
The laurels drip, the fading roses fall,
The marble satyr plays a mournful strain
That leaves the rainy fragrance musical.
Oh dripping laurel, Phoebus sacred tree,
Would that swift Daphne's lot might come to me,
Then would I still my soul and for an hour
Change to a laurel in the glancing shower.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'Villa Serbelloni', in BELLAGIO (Lake Como, north of Italy) is a Grand Hotel, indeed one of the oldest and most elegant hotels