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O little room that was once a refuge

‘O cameretta che già fosti un porto'

O little room that was once a refuge
from those grave diurnal storms of mine,
you are a fountain now of nocturnal tears
which I carry hidden by day from shame.
O little couch that was rest and comfort
in so many torments, from what sad urns
does Love bathe you, with those ivory hands
so wrongly cruel to me alone!

I do not flee from privacy and rest
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If You Forget Me