As I became aware of who I was
the Gods gave me to him--to mould, and
I was apt, followed his radiant torch:
I keep his soul in me, alive and whole.
My heart submitted to his unswerving
pressure, the soft wax took the firm image:
I was his quiet true sanctuary,
trusted, where he'd place his dreams and true self.
By the bitter raw hurt death inflicted
I've not been deprived of what I treasured:
I need not beg: my sun lives in my heart.
My mind holds the light it's had since childhood;
my heart the impress of joy that fed it,
my breast the noble words he preserved there.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
From V XLVII:47. See also B A1:18:12 (1.1: "Per subietto a la nobil forma altera"); R LXXVI:213. Key