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[Words by Dante Gabriele Rossetti 1828-1882]

Lungi è la luce che in sù questo muro
Rifrange appena, un breve istante scorta
Del rio palazzo alla soprana porta.
Lungi quei fiori d'Enna, O lido oscuro,
Dal frutto tuo fatal che ormai m'è duro.
Lungi quel ciel dal tartareo manto
Che quì mi cuopre: e lungi ahi lungi ahi quanto
Le notti che saràn dai dì che furo.

Lungi da me mi sento; e ognor sognando,
Cerco e ricerco, e resto ascoltatrice;
E qualche cuore a qualche anima dice,
(Di cui mi giunge il suono da quando in quando,
Continuamente insieme sospirando,)-
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"Oimè per te, Proserpina infelice!"

"Afar away the light that brings cold cheer
Unto this wall, one instant and no more
Admitted at my distant palace-door.
Afar the flowers of Enna from this drear
Dire fruit, which, tasted once, must thrall me here.
Afar those skies from this Tartarean grey
That chills me: and afar, how far away,
The nights that shall be from the days that were.

Afar from mine own self I seem, and wing
Strange ways in thought, and listen for a sign;
And still some heart unto some soul doth pine,
(Whose sounds mine inner sense is faith to bring,
Continually together murmuring,)-
"Woe's me for thee, unhappy Proserpine!"