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Moved by deep pity--for which it's never
too late, my beloved, in Paradise, comes back to me, to anywhere I call him, he makes me laugh and provides what I need: and I live and feel desire once more. He heals a heart shattered by love's strong dart by plunging in ever more solidly: changed utterly from myself. Happy now, I gaze at him from afar. The eyes Death shut and buried lit a flame still burning in my soul, were rare clear mirrors on earth wherein I lived my life. Now a breath of light, no more forbidden, brings my raised sail through the rough storms of this bad century. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: V LXV:65. From B A2:39:75. See also R LXXXIII:232. Key |
