The motives that so very long ago
made all my thoughts flee to my beloved
should now lead me back from delusions to
reality, to the rank I escaped.
They made a lovely, dense, mazy net twined
round my heart: my physical response to
him was not na´ve nor shallow. Thus death's blows
have not loosened the tie. Desire makes
me follow these burning lights, to scorn freedom--
in these dreams of him, in sweet hope, I pass
the bitter days. But if my hope's taken
from me, I tear myself apart: I know I should
change my ways--if it's not too late, appease
my God, resist passion, and clear my mind.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
V XXIX:29. From B A1:66:36. See also R LXX:195. Key