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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 |
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Notes: From V XLVII:47. See also B A1:18:12 (1.1: "Per subietto a la nobil forma altera"); R LXXVI:213. Key |
