|
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. |
|
|
Notes: From B A2:38:74. In 1556 Dolce; MS Pc and BoCa1:2. Translation: McAuliffe 201-2. Key |