Non so più cosa son, cosa faccio;
or di foco, ora sono di ghiaccio.
Ogni donna cangiar di colore,
ogni donna fa palpitar,

Solo ai nomi d’amor, di diletto,
mi si turba, mi s’altera il petto,
e a parlare mi sforza d’amore
un desio ch’io non posso spiegar.

Parlo d’amor vegliando,
parlo d’amor sognando,
all’ acqua, all’ ombra, ai monti,
ai fiori, all’ erbe, ai fonti,
all’ eco, all’ aria, ai venti,
che il suon de’ vani accenti,
portano via con se.

E se non ho chi m’oda,
parlo d’amor con me.

I do not know anymore what I am, what I do,
one moment I'm on fire, the next moment I am cold as ice,
Every woman makes me blush,
every woman makes my heart beat wildly.

At the very mention of love, of delight,
it excites me, my heart stirs within my chest,
it compels me to speak of love
a desire I can not explain.

I speak of love while I'm awake,
I speak of love while I'm dreaming,
To water, to shade, to the mountains,
to the flowers, to grass, to the fountains,
to the echo, to air, to the winds,
the sound of my useless words,
are carried away with them.

And if I have not anyone to hear me,
I speak of love to myself.