‘I’vo piagendo i miei passati tempi’
I go weeping for my time past,
that I spent in loving something mortal,
without lifting myself in flight, for I had wings
that might have freed me for spaces not so low.
You who see my shameful and impious sins,
King of Heaven, invisible, immortal,
help this frail and straying soul,
and mend its defects through your grace:
So that, if I have lived in war and tempest,
I may die in peaceful harbour: and if my stay
was vain, let my vanishing, at least, be virtuous.
Deign that your hand might rest on that little life
that is left to me, and on my death:
You truly know I have no other hope.
Translated by: A. S. Kline
You May Also Like:
- When the heavenly body that tells the hours
- Glorious pillar in whom rests
- If my life of bitter torment and of tears
- When from hour to hour among the other ladies
- Doth any Maiden Seek The Glorious Fame
- As at times in hot sunny weather
- Not Ticino, Po, Varo, Arno, Adige or Tiber
- No weary helmsman ever fled for harbour
Leave a Reply