198. ‘L’aura soave al sole spiega et vibra’

The gentle breeze loosens, and stirs in the sun,

the gold Love spins and weaves with his own hand

near the lovely eyes, and binds my weary heart

with those very tresses, and lightens my spirits.

There’s no marrow in my bones, nor blood

in my veins that doesn’t feel the tremor,

when I’m near one who too often sets death

and life together in the balance,

seeing the fire blazing where I’m burned,

the knots glistening where I’m held,

now at her left shoulder, now her right.

I can’t explain what I don’t understand:

my mind’s troubled by those double lights,

and oppressed and wearied by such sweetness.