Desire spurs me on, Love guides and escorts,
Pleasure cajoles me, Habit is my transport;
Hope flatters me and flirts and reaches out
with her right hand to help my weary heart;
the poor fool grasps it and will not be shown
how blind and treacherous is this guide of ours;
the senses are in charge, and reason's dead;
each hot desire's going to breed another.
Virtue and honor, beauty, noble bearing,
and words too sweet have brought me to these branches,
and gently caught my heart upon this birdlime.
In 1327, at precisely
the day's first hour, April 6, I entered
this labyrinth, and I've found no escape.
No comments:
Post a Comment