L’animo riposato aver solìa, ed era nuovo che fosse dolore: e or me n’ha così fornito Amore! Non credo e penso ch’altra cosa sia. Deh quant’è suta la sventura mia poi ch’i’ fu’ servo di cotal segnore, ché ciò ch’io faccio mi torna al peggiore ver’ quella che ’l me’ cor ha ’n ubria. Certo non me le par aver servito: ché s’ella s’umiliass’a comandarmi, non avrebbe ch’a levar lo su’ dito. Sì mi parrebbe poco trarriparmi, potendo dir ch’i’ l’avess’ubbidito; s’i ne morisse, crederìe salvarmi.
My mind has been accustomed to repose, Indeed to trouble I am very new: Is grief the guerdon Love provides? God knows I’ve come to think no other plight is true. So heavy has the burden of my woes Grown since I first accepted Love as master, That everything I do or I propose To please my lady turns to my disaster. I’ve surely served her now with all my might; And if she deigned to give me some injunction, A finger raised would serve as indication. I’d go and take a leap from any height, Proclaiming her command without compunction; And if I died, I’d think it my salvation.
translated by: C.H. Scott and Anthony Mortimer