Above my body my soul's eager wings
unfurl, cleave the thick black air around her:
alone, carefree, I reach out to my Sun,
and he'll burn, absorb me into his sphere.
My elysium, hallowed school where one
learns freedom: not to fear or hope for all
those things the world gives and takes away;
to scorn death's wild dart, all time steals from us.
He and I drink from a spring, profuse, bright,
living: it contents him and I taste such
sweetness--afterwards honey seems bitter.
He quiets my anguish--before all too
familiar to him--with his loving
bright kindness, and the world sparkles with light.
From B A2:38:74. In 1556 Dolce; MS Pc and BoCa1:2. Translation: McAuliffe 201-2. Key