Call Me by Your Name | André Aciman
Chiagneva sempe ca durmeva sola,
mo dorme co’ li muorte accompagnata.
She always wept because she slept alone,
Now she sleeps among the dead.
I can, from the distance of years now, still think I’m hearing the voices of two young men singing these words in Neapolitan toward daybreak, neither realizing, as they held each other and kissed again and again on the dark lanes of old Rome, that this was the last night they would ever make love again.