Sennuccio, i' vo' che sapi in qual manera
tractato sono, et qual vita è la mia:
ardomi et struggo anchor com'io solia;
l'aura mi volve, et son pur quel ch'i'm'era.
Qui tutta humile, et qui la vidi altera,
or aspra, or piana, or dispietata, or pia;
or vestirsi honestate, or leggiadria,
or mansüeta, or disdegnosa et fera.
Qui cantò dolcemente, et qui s'assise;
qui si rivolse, et qui rattenne il passo;
qui co' begli occhi mi trafisse il core;
qui disse una parola, et qui sorrise;
qui cangiò 'l viso. In questi pensier', lasso,
nocte et dí tiemmi il signor nostro Amore.
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Sennuccio, I want you to know in what manner
I am treated, and what my life is like:
I burn, and am consumed, as I used to be:
the breeze whirls me, and I am as I was.
Here I saw her all humility, and its opposite,
now harsh, now soft, now pitiless, now kind:
now clothed in nobility, now in grace,
now tame, now disdainful and wild.
Here she sang sweetly, and here she sat:
here she turned, and here took a step back:
here, with her lovely eyes, she pierced my heart:
here she spoke a word, and here she smiled:
here her face changed. Alas, both night and day,
our lord, Love, holds me, with such thoughts.
Note:
Sennuccio, see poems 108, 111, 113, 287.
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