Recorded Sunday, 30. November 1902 in Milan with piano accompaniment by Salvatore Cottone. Lyrics: Di quei begli occhi il vivido lampo forse a una stella l'hai rubato, e forse profuse l'ebano alle tue ricche chiome il suo color, sulle tue bianche mani è nevicato, e il tuo profumo te lo han dato i fior. Perché del sangue i fremiti Dio non concesse a così elette forme? Tu non hai duol che t'agiti, le meste gioie non le intendi tu. A che val la bellezza? A un cuor che dorme non si perdona, ed io non t'amo più. Maybe you have stolen from a star that vivid light of your beautiful eyes, and maybe the ebony gave its colour your thick hair, on your white hands it did snow, and flowers gave you their fragrance. Why didn't God give your noble shape the throbs of blood? You can't feel sorrow; Why do you disturb? You can't understand the little delights. Beauty doesn't count! One can't forgive a sleeping heart; and I don't love you anymore.