Gone brightness from the air, a light I knew,
gone from the sun and his sister, the moon,
gone from earth; gone Venus silvery star,
gaily whirling rings of shimmering light.
Gone his brave heart, hardened by endurance,
gone the chivalric soul, its beauty and
integrity with all his virtues gone;
the trees are bare, the fields without flowers.
I see troubled waters and air like pitch;
fire has no warmth, the wind lacks freshness;
all things have lost their purpose and meaning.
Since he I love is gone into the earth,
nature's laws are confused--or else my grief
is such reality is gone from me.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
V XLI:41. From B A1:32:19. See also R XXXVIII:110. Translation: Roscoe 90 (verse), 105 (prose); Lefèvre-Deumier, 74; Thérault, 186. Key