When I see the gladness of spring brighten
this earth, from my heart's, life's central vein
flows an ever-widening stream of tears,
bearing within my winter of torment.
Then the more I see the luminous sky,
this rich earth adorned, bearing spring's flowers,
the more this sad, awakened heart expands:
outward beauty magnifies inward grief.
Confined to a dark, fearful, lonely place,
hidden away, eaten up by my pain,
tied fast by my body to memory,
I long to go swiftly, proudly to him--
I long to fulfill this supreme longing:
to get there from here is my only good.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
V LV:55. From B A1:13:9. See also R XLIII:119. Translation: Lefèvre-Deumier 86. Key