301. ‘Valle che de’ lamenti miei se’ piena,’

Valley so filled with all my laments,

river so often swollen with my tears,

wild beasts, wandering birds and fish,

reined in by these two green river-banks,

air warmed and calmed by my sighs,

sweet path that ends in such bitterness,

hill that pleased me, that now saddens,

where by habit Love still leads me:

I recognise familiar forms in you,

not, alas, in me, whose happy life,

has become the house of endless grief.

I saw my good from here: and with these steps

turn to see where she went naked to the sky,

leaving what’s left of her beauty in the earth.