Vanne, o Rosa Fortunata

Go, O lucky rose
To rest on the chest of Nice
And everyone will be forced
To envy your fate

Oh, if I could also
Transform into you for just a moment
I would have no greater joy
Than this heart to sigh

But you bow, spiteful
Beautiful rose, pale and wan
Your brow faded
From disdain and from pain

Beautiful rose, it's destined
For both to share the same fate
There we must find death
You from envy and I from love