Now who holds me here? why not free myself

Now who holds me here? why not free myself
from this dark prison pressing in on me,
this entangled flesh? a thick mist blocks a
beloved light summoning, impelling

me up to him. And if the images
reverie shadows forth--I should say, Love
deep-dyed in my heart--ease the torment,
lick the raw wound, how will it be after

death if a shade can thus gratify me?
But fear of eternal bootless crying
cripples my dauntless wings, could hell be less?

Awake reason, blood, passion--and dare it.
Show others what hidden torment leads to.
People who cannot die can do nothing.
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition
V CVI:106. From B A1:56:31. See also R LIII:147. Key

Amaro Lagrimar
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