195. ‘Di dí in dí vo cangiando il viso e ’l pelo,’

My hair and looks are altering day by day,

but I’m not free of sweetly baited hooks,

nor tear myself from the green limed branches

of that tree that ignores both sun and cold.

The sea will have no water, the sky no stars

before I ever cease to fear and long for

its lovely shade, or cease to love and hate

the noble wound of love I cannot hide.

I have no hope my troubles will ever end,

until I’m boneless, nerveless and fleshless,

or my sweet enemy takes pity on me.

Every impossible thing will happen first,

since only she or death can heal the wound

that Love, with her lovely eyes, made in my heart.