Thank you so much, Mira,
Here is the English version, to which I gave the title, which I forgot when I published the poem in Italian:

Your body

Of this flowery field,
sometimes in the shade
sometimes heated by the sun,
always damp with dew,
which petals
do I prefer to caress with my fingers?
Or more sweetly with eyes closed
to brush with my lips?
The fog veils and reveals them
as fragrant as roses
in a swirl of black and white butterflies,
that have never placed
their flesh on my heart.

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