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Ahi, come a un vago sol cortese giro
de’ duo belli occhi, ond’io
soffersi il primo dolce stral d’Amore,
pien d’un novo desio,
sì pront’a sospirar torna ’l mio core.
But, harder of heart than ever,
you still feel not a spark of pity;
indeed the more I beg,
the more unrelenting you become.
Can you then hear me and say nothing?
To whom do I, poor wretch, speak? A dumb rock?
If nothing else, at least say to me: ‘die!’
And you will see me perish.
Wicked Love, this is truly dreadful misery:
this unfeeling nymph
answers me not and
you even deny me the weapons
of a cruel and angry voice
at my death.
What more can I give you?
My beloved take this. I give you my heart
as a token of my faith and of my love.
And as I give it to you to save its life,
do not let it die;
nourish it with the sweetest joy,
for Love made it yours, Nature mine.
Can you not see, my life,
that your image is etched upon it.
The pain I suffer for Amaryllis is sweeter
than the joy felt by thousand others;
and if my destiny
forbids me to have her, let all other happiness
die for me today.
Could I live contented
for any other woman, any other love?
Neither would I, if I could,
nor could I, if I would.
And, should it ever come to pass
that I be willing,
or that I be able,
I beg heaven and Love first to take
my will and ability from me.
Ah, as if towards a graceful, lovely sun
am I drawn to two beautiful eyes, from which
I was struck by Love’s first dart,
full of a new desire,
my heart, ready for love, now returns.
Lasso, non val ascondersi, ch’omai
conosco i segni che ’l mio cor addita
de l’antica ferita.
Ed è gran tempo pur che la saldai.
Ah che piaga d’Amor non sana mai!
15 Troppo ben può questo tiranno Amore!