336. ‘Tornami a la mente, anzi v’è dentro, quella’

She comes to mind, rather is already there,

she who cannot even be banished by Lethe,

such as I saw here in the flower of her years,

all burning with the rays of her planet.

I see her, lovely and chaste, as if at our first

meeting, gathered in herself, and so distant,

that I cry: ‘It is truly her: she is still alive.’

and beg the gift of her of her sweet tongue.

Sometimes she answers, sometimes not a word.

Like a man who errs, and then sees clearly,

I say in my mind: ‘You are deceived about her.

Know that in thirteen hundred and forty eight,

on the sixth day of April, in the first hour,

that soul, so blessed, issued from its body.’