362. ‘Volo con l’ali de’ pensieri al cielo’

I fly to heaven on wings of thought

so often that I seem to be one of those

whose whole treasure is there,

leaving its torn veil behind on earth.

My heart trembles sometimes with a sweet chill

hearing her, for whom I grow pale, say to me:

‘Friend, I can love you now and honour you,

because your life has altered with your hair.’

She leads me to her Lord: then I bow,

begging humbly that He consent

for me to stay and see both these faces.

He replies: ‘Your fate is already settled:

and to delay there still for twenty years or thirty,

might seem long to you, yet is but a moment.’