333. ‘Ite, rime dolenti, al duro sasso’

that hides my precious treasure in the earth,

call to her there, she will reply from heaven,

though her mortal part is in a low, dark place.

Say to her I’m already tired of living,

of navigating through these foul waves:

but gathering up the scattered leaves,

step by step, like this, I follow her,

only I go speaking of her, living and dead,

yet alive, and made immortal now,

so that the world can know of her, and love her.

Let it please her to watch for my passing,

that is near now: let us meet together, and her

draw me, and call me, to what she is in heaven.

Notes