109. ‘Lasso, quante fiate Amor m’assale’

Alas, when Love makes his assaults on me,

more than a thousand times night and day,

I think of where I saw those sparks burning

that make the fire in my heart eternal.

Then I’m calm: and I’m brought to this,

that at the ringing of nones, vespers, dawn,

I find my thoughts of them so serene

that I recall and care for nothing else.

The gentle breeze from her bright face

moves with the sound of wise words

making a sweet harmony where it blows,

as if a gentle spirit from Paradise

seems always to comfort me, in that air,

so that my heart won’t let me breathe elsewhere.