Se lamentar augelli, o verdi fronde
mover soavemente a l'aura estiva,
o roco mormorar di lucide onde
s'ode d'una fiorita et fresca riva,
là 'v'io seggia d'amor pensoso et scriva,
lei che 'l ciel ne mostrò, terra n'asconde,
veggio, et odo, et intendo ch'anchor viva
di sí lontano a' sospir' miei risponde.
"Deh, perché inanzi 'l tempo ti consume?
- mi dice con pietate - a che pur versi
degli occhi tristi un doloroso fiume?
Di me non pianger tu, ché' miei dí fersi
morendo eterni, et ne l'interno lume,
quando mostrai de chiuder, gli occhi apersi".
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If the birds lament, or the green leaves
move gently in the summer breeze,
or soft murmurs of the clear waves
are heard from a fresh flowering river-bank,
where I sit thinking of love and writing,
then I see her whom heaven shows, earth hides,
and I hear and understand that she still lives,
though far away, responding to my sighs.
'Ah, why are you so aged before your time?'
she asks with pity, 'why does a sad stream
always flow from your grieving eyes?
Don't weep for me, my days, in dying,
became eternal ones, and when the light
within seemed to darken, my eyes opened.'
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