221. ‘Qual mio destìn, qual forza o qual inganno,’

How did my fate, or force or deceit

bring me unarmed to the field again,

where I am always beaten? If I escape

it’s a miracle: if I die, it’s no loss.

No loss at all, but profit: so sweetly stands

the sparkle and clear light in my heart

that dazzles and consumes me, so I blaze,

and have already burned for twenty years.

I fear Death’s messengers, when I see

her lovely eyes appear, and shine from afar:

then when they have neared me,

Love blesses and pierces me so sweetly

I can hardly recall it, far less repeat:

that no tongue or wit could express its truth.