Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-

.Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft swell and fall,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever-or else swoon to death.

Stella lucente, foss'io come te scostante...

J. Keats