As Phoebus' light emerges in the east,

As Phoebus' light emerges in the east,
and he pushes aside night's black curtain,
and from the earth chill frost and cold shadows
dissolve, dispelled by his fiery rays,

I again take up the burden I've known
since that first moment of anguish, all the
anxieties sleep's deceits had lulled--my
pleasures turned into those wintry shadows

dreams had scattered, blown away. How tired
I am, hostility everywhere
my fate; I seek obscurity, flee light,

attention. I hate life, long but to die.
What hurts others relieves me: for closing
my eyes opens a door to my real Sun.
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition
From V LXXXII:82 and B A1:68:37. See also R CII:295. Translation: Roscoe 98. Key

Amaro Lagrimar
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