Voglia mi sprona, Amor mi guida et scorge,
Piacer mi tira, Usanza mi trasporta,
Speranza mi lusinga et riconforta
et la man destra al cor già stanco porge;
e 'l misero la prende, et non s'accorge
di nostra cieca et disleale scorta:
regnano i sensi, et la ragion è morta;
de l'un vago desio l'altro risorge.
Vertute, Honor, Bellezza, atto gentile,
dolci parole ai be' rami m'àn giunto
ove soavemente il cor s'invesca.
Mille trecento ventisette, a punto
su l'ora prima, il dí sesto d'aprile,
nel laberinto intrai, né veggio ond'esca.
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Desire drives me: Love sees and guides me,
Pleasure draws me: Habit carries me on,
Hope beguiles me, and he comforts me,
and holds his hand out to my weary heart:
and the wretch takes it, and does not see
how blind and disloyal is our guide:
the senses reign, and reason is dead:
from one errant desire another rises.
Virtue, Honour, Beauty, her gentle ways,
and sweet words brought me among the branches
where the heart's so gently caught.
Thirteen twenty-seven, at the beginning
of the first hour, on the sixth day of April,
I entered the labyrinth, and see no escape.
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