‘O bella man, che mi destringi ‘l core’
O beautiful hand that clutches my heart
shutting my life in so small a space,
hand on which Nature and Heaven lavished
all art, and all care, to do it honour,
with five pearls of orient colour,
and only to wound me bitterly and cruelly,
those long gentle fingers, that Love consents
to show me naked, now, for my enrichment.
White, graceful glove dear to me,
that hides polished ivory and fresh rose,
who ever saw such sweet spoils on earth?
If only I had as much of her lovely veil!
O the fickleness of human things!
But this is theft, and she comes whom I must not plunder.
Translated by: A. S. Kline
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