203. ‘Lasso, ch’i’ardo, et altri non me ’l crede:’

Alas, I burn, and others will not believe me:

if all believed she who’s above all others

still does not, she who alone I wish to do so:

she does not seem to believe, and yet she sees.

Infinite beauty, yet of such little faith,

do you not see my heart in my eyes?

If my fate were not otherwise, I surely must

find mercy at the fountain of pity?

My passion, for which you care so little,

and your praises that pervade my verses,

may yet perhaps set thousands on fire:

since, my sweet flame, in my thoughts, I see,

long after us, this tongue, grown cold, yet your

two lovely closed eyes, there, glowing still.