L'ardente nodo ov'io fui d'ora in hora,
contando, anni ventuno interi preso,
Morte disciolse, né già mai tal peso
provai, né credo ch'uom di dolor mora.
Non volendomi Amor perdere anchora,
ebbe un altro lacciuol fra l'erba teso,
et di nova ésca un altro foco acceso,
tal ch'a gran pena indi scampato fôra.
Et se non fosse esperïentia molta
de' primi affanni, i' sarei preso et arso,
tanto piú quanto son men verde legno.
Morte m'à liberato un'altra volta,
et rotto 'l nodo, e 'l foco à spento et sparso:
contra la qual non val forza né 'ngegno.
|
The burning knot that held me constantly
from hour to hour, for twenty years,
Death loosened, and I never felt such grief,
and know now man cannot die of tears.
Love, not wishing to lose me yet,
hid another snare in the grass,
and kindled a fresh fire with new tinder,
so I escaped but only with great pain.
And if I'd not had long experience
of trouble, I'd have been caught, and burned,
more so since the wood's no longer green.
Death has freed me again, and broken
the knot, the fire is quenched and scattered:
against it neither force nor wit has power.
|
