‘Dicesette anni à già rivolto il cielo'
The heavens have revolved for seventeen years
since I first burned, and I am never quenched:
but when I think again about my state,
I feel a chill in the midst of flame.
The proverb is true, that our hair changes
before our vices, and though the senses slow
the human passions have no less intensity:
making a dark shadow to our heavy veil.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem