168. ‘Amor mi manda quell dolce pensero’

Love sends me a sweet thought,

an ancient messenger between us two,

to comfort me, saying he was never

readier than now to grant what I hope and wish.

I, who have found his words sometimes true,

and sometimes false, still not certain

whether to believe him, live between the two,

neither yes nor no sounds wholly in my heart.

In this way time flies, and in the mirror

I see I near the season that opposes

his promise, and my hopes.

Now come what must: I’m not alone in growing old:

only my longing does not alter with the years:

truly I fear the brief life that cannot last.