250. ‘Solea lontana in sonno consolarme’

in sleep, with that sweet angelic face of hers,

now she saddens me, makes me afraid,

nor can I free myself from grief and fear:

for often I seem to see, in her face,

true pity mingled with a heavy pain,

and hear things that make my heart believe

I must disarm myself of hope and joy.

‘Don’t you remember that final evening,’

she said, ‘I left your weeping eyes

and, forced to by the hour, went away?’

‘I did not wish to say it then nor could I:

now I say it as a true and certain thing:

do not hope to see me more on earth.’

Notes