Sleep, Baby, Sleep...

Buona vespre! Sleep: Your candle-end,
They set it there, then they left.
You'll not be afraid by yourself, poor little one?
It's the candlestick for your bed at the inn.

Fear no longer the pen-pusher's lash,
Gol . . . To wake no more isn't so reckless.
Buona sera! Sleep: Your candle-end...

Is dead. -Here no doorkeeper longer attends:
Just the wind from the north, the wind from the south
Comes to quiver a gossamer thread.
Shhhi To the scoundrels, your ground is accursed.
-Buona notte! Sleep: Your candle-end ...