328. ‘L’ultimo, lasso, de’ miei giorno allegri,’

Alas, the last of my happy days,

I’ve seen so few of in this brief life,

was done, and made my heart wet snow,

an omen perhaps of sad, dark days.

I felt like someone sick in vein and pulse

and thoughts, attacked by local fever,

not knowing then how swiftly the end

of my imperfect happiness would come.

The lovely eyes, joyful and bright in heaven

in that light from which life and salvation flow,

leaving me in sadness and poverty,

said to mine, with a new lovely glimmer:

‘O dear friends, be at peace. There,

no more, but elsewhere we shall meet.’