Translated from the Italian (La Vedova) by E. Muzlo.
Think not now thou canst awaken Joys that once gave me delight.
They, like gathered flowers forsaken, all have perished in the blight.
In the wind my locks are blowing, o'er my shoulders loose are they flowing,
What care I now for beauty showing, my beloved cannot see nor know.
Ask me not why faint and weary, I have bowed me beyond control;
Let me rest from a life so dreary, from the darkness within my soul.
Silent standeth my harp from sadness, I forsake it for sigh and tear.
What care I for song and for gladness, my beloved can never hear me,
What care I for gladness, what care I for gladness, my beloved can never hear,
My beloved cannot hear, my beloved can never hear.