I was like the man whose face a dense dark

I was like the man whose face a dense dark
haze cuts off from the clear steps of a bright
anticipated voyage; but since he's
habituated to walk this way--no,

out of prudence--is led somehow obscurely
to follow the right: thus when I first lost
my husband whose radiant light death stole
from me the memory of his splendor

kept my mind clear, my feet firm. But now a
black, a terrible night's all round me,
only within the kind lovely day,

so I turn playfully, lovingly towards
my star: I would try, I'd run so lightly,
if someone will show me, where is my Sun.
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition
V LXXXVII:87. From B A1:80:43. In MS F1, CASI, COR, Pa1, V1, Ve2. Key

Amaro Lagrimar
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