When for a buonamano

Cometh, at break of day,

Knock at the terzo piano,

A little voice answers, Chi è?

“I, the facchino, awaiting

The bounty of cara lei.”

She droppeth a paul through the grating,

And silently steals away.

When, with a long low mumble

Of lips that appear to pray,

There cometh a knock-so humble-

The little voice answers, Chi è?

“I, the poor monk.” Just a little

She opens, but nought doth say;

Gives him baiocchi or victual,

And silently steals away.

But when, as the shadows longer

Stretch half athwart the way,

There cometh a knock, much stronger,

The little voice answers, Chi è?

And when I answer, Io!

No bolts nor bars delay;

But, with the wild whisper, Ah Dio!

We kiss, and we steal away.