‘Sí travïato è 'l folle mi' desio'
My passion's folly is so led astray
by following what turns and flees,
and flies from Love's light supple noose
in front of my slow pace,
that the more I recall its steps
to the safe road, the less it hears me:
nor does spurring on help me, or turning about,
resisting what Love does by nature.
And then if the bit gathers me to him by force,
I remain in his sovereign power,
so that my state carries me sadly towards death:
only to come to the laurel from which is culled
bitter fruit, whose taste is a worse wound
for others, whom it does not solace.
Translated by: A. S. Kline
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem