How the stars shone. How sweet the earth smelled. The orchard gate creaked, and a footstep pressed on the sand. And she entered, fragrant as a flower, and fell into my arms. Oh, sweet kisses, lingering caresses. Slowly, trembling, I gazed upon her beauty. Now my dream of true love is lost forever. My last hour has flown, and I die, hopeless, and never have I loved life more.
Giacomo PucciniAbout author
- Author's profession: Composer
- Nationality: italian
- Born: December 22, 1858
- Died: November 29, 1924
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