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Like someone who has lived in a sheltered retreat for long years was I on that day I fell in love: when I saw him I could not judge if he were human or a god; in that instant I gave myself to him, yielded that sweet freedom I'd enjoyed, self- forgetting by the self forgot, and onto my gay ardent heart was pressed an image I never wanted to turn away from. In his face I glimpsed each virtue, beauty such that the very air sparkled, made him more beautiful the more I looked at him. Ah! how I prayed to Love, let it be like this always, and how far it's been from what I hoped. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V LIII:53. See also Bullock A1:85:45; R LXXV:212. Key |
