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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 naïve 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 |
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Notes: V XXIX:29. From B A1:66:36. See also R LXX:195. Key |
