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Love teaches me to feed on flames and tears;
to turn withered hope green through desire; to re-enslave my heart each time Love frees his noble face from that heavy disdain; Love also teaches me to bear his weight when I dream he's there alluring, touching me, and in the sweet encounter the pain's gone and my beloved enjoys my languors; Sweet are these tears, delicious this passion. How is this--that I have lost all hope saves me--in the back of my mind the sense I can renounce the desire coursing through my body--that people honor torment when you smile serenely. Thus Love teaches me ... |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: V CII:102. From B A2:36:73; R LXXXVI:244, and commentary. Key |
