I don’t sense the tortured depths of love
when I contemplate with studied gaze
the rare perfection of your head
and your body, that Hellenic sculpture.
As if, printed in your genteel figure
sealed with august and manly nobility,
in your bright clear gaze,
the light of thought never shines.
As I contemplate it without pain or desire,
worthy model of an immortal artist,
your magnificent beauty, so enchanting,
only manages to inspire in my soul
the calm admiration sparked
by the beauty of a brute or of silver.

Translation by Liz Henry