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Who is it can sever the knot that binds me? Reason herself made the thread Love twisted; Scorn couldn't slacken, Death failed to loose it; Constancy wove the tangle Time pulls tight. Who can put out this captivating flame? The truth is I feel no pain, no grief, am happier and more honored each moment I bear it unslaked by sigh or complaint. O my sweet sun, flown so far from his body, from his blest place he reaches down to me, again inflames and binds me--so that let who will claim me through luck, strength, or genius, never will they alter my thoughts or desires: so sweet to me is this flame, so dear this knot. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V VII:7 (powerful: "Si m'e soave il foco, e caro il nodo". See also B A:10:8 (more coherent, correct); R LXVIII:186. Translations: Lefèvre-Deumier 73; Thérault 177-78 Key |
