Leoncavallo

The dawn, dressed in white,

has already opened the door to the sun,

and with pink fingers

caresses the myriads of flowers.



A mysterious trembling seems

to disturb all nature,

yet you will not get up, and vainly

I stand here sadly and sing.



Dress yourself, too, in white

and open the door to your serenader!

Where you are not, all is dark,

where you are, love is born!