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Two fresh roses, gathered in paradise,
The breeze that with its gentle sighing moves
Perhaps it might seem to some that in praising
Who wishes to see what Nature can achieve
What fear I have, when I turn my mind
My lady used to console me, far-away
O wretched and terrible imagining!
Uncertain of my state, now I weep, now sing,
O sweet glances, O subtle speech,
I listen closely, and I hear no news
Desire the evening, and hate the dawn:
If I could take my vengeance on her
My eyes were fixed, with intense desire,
Living sparks issued towards me,
I’ve often sought the solitary life
I saw two eyes beneath such stars,
That lady who hopes for glorious fame
‘Life is dearest, and next it seems to me
Victorious, triumphant laurel-branch,
Poems Written After Laura’s Death
I go thinking, and so strong a pity
Her savage bitter heart, and cruel will,
My dear lord, every thought in me,
Ah me, the beautiful face, ah me, the gentle look,
What must I do? What do you counsel, Love?
The high column and the green laurel are broken
Love, if you wish me under your former yoke,
The burning knot that held me constantly
Life flies, and never stays an hour,
Disconsolate spirit what can you think or do?
O harsh thoughts of mine, grant me peace:
My eyes, that sun of ours is darkened:
Now the calm, angelic presence of her,
If Love does not bring me new counsel,
In the lovely flowering season of her life,
If the birds lament, or the green leaves
There is nowhere where I see so clearly
How often I come to my sweet retreat,
Happy spirit that so often turns
Death, you’ve made the loveliest face I’ve seen,
The time’s so brief, the thought so swift
Never did mother caring for her dear son
If I could tell the fragrance of her gentle
My Sennuccio, though you’ve left me
I fill all this air with sighs, seeing
My soul, my flame, loveliest of the lovely,
How this world alters! What once displeased
When I see the Dawn go down the sky
The eyes I spoke about so warmly,
If I had thought the voice of my sighs
She used to be lovely and living in my heart,
My thoughts used to talk sweetly
I used to accuse myself, and now I excuse:
Two great enemies were brought together,
When I turn again to gaze on the years
Where is the forehead, that could make my heart turn
How much envy I bear you, greedy earth,
Valley so filled with all my laments,
My thought raised me to a place in which
Love who stayed with me when times were good
While my heart was being consumed