When my mind is freed of other troubles,

When my mind is freed of other troubles,
I feel the hurt my soul suffers. Then how
I grieve--the tears come, bathe my face, run down
over my sad heart. These then form a stream

of nourishing waters, a fountain to
gaze into. And I see his face. The tears
stop, as I know the joy of seeing him
which deranges me further as I am

in pain. He's not here. Still this welcome dream
calms me, stops the tears; I feel my warmth breath
dry those now unfelt, already run down

my body. But there's a catch. I fear sweet
tears will make the stars less my enemies
and it's moments like these I live for.
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition
V XIV:14. From B A1:40:23. See also R XCVI:279-80. Translation: Lefèvre-Deumier, 78-9. Key

Amaro Lagrimar
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