197. ‘L’aura celeste ch ’n quell verde lauro’

The heavenly breeze that breathes through

that green laurel where Love wounded Apollo’s

heart, and set the sweet yoke on my neck,

so that freedom’s slow to be restored to me,

had the same power on me as Medusa had

when she turned the old Moroccan giant to flint:

nor can I now be free of that lovely knot,

that exceeds the sun, not just amber or gold:

I mean the blonde hair, and the noose of curls,

that binds the soul, armed with humility

not weapons, so gently and so tightly.

Her shadow alone turns my heart to ice,

and paints my face a fearful white:

her eyes have the power to turn me to marble.

Note: Medusa created the Atlas Mountains.

‘Perseus Kills Medusa’ - Bernard Picart (French, 1673 – 1733), The Rijksmuseum