321. ‘É questo ’l nido in che la mia fenice’

Is this the nest in which my phoenix

spread her gold and purple plumage,

she who held my heart beneath her wing,

and from it still elicits words and sighs?

O the first root of my sweet ills,

where is the lovely face, living and joyful

from which that light came that set me burning?

You, unique on earth, are happy in heaven.

And you have left me wretched and alone,

so that grief-filled I always turn to honour

and adorn that place that you made sacred:

seeing night darkening round the hills

from which you took your final flight,

where those eyes of yours once made it day.