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When I see the gladness of spring brighten
this earth, from my heart's, life's central vein flows an ever-widening stream of tears, bearing within my winter of torment. Then the more I see the luminous sky, this rich earth adorned, bearing spring's flowers, the more this sad, awakened heart expands: outward beauty magnifies inward grief. Confined to a dark, fearful, lonely place, hidden away, eaten up by my pain, tied fast by my body to memory, I long to go swiftly, proudly to him-- I long to fulfill this supreme longing: to get there from here is my only good. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: V LV:55. From B A1:13:9. See also R XLIII:119. Translation: Lefèvre-Deumier 86. Key |
