229. ‘Cantai, or piango, et non men di dolcezza’

I sang, and now I weep, and I take no less

delight in weeping than I took in singing,

for the cause and not the effect, is in

my senses, longing for my noble one.

So I bear mildness and severity,

cruel or humble or courteous actions,

equally, no weight burdens me,

no weapon tipped with disdain touches me.

Let Love, my lady, world and fortune

treat me as they have always done,

and I will never think myself unhappy.

Alive, or dead, or languishing, there’s no

state better than mine beneath the moon,

so sweet is the root of my bitterness.