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|
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