The dragon's lair

A personal collection of verse

Cecco Angiolieri


Oh, am I not beset with the plague’s pain
Since I cannot give over loving one
Who hates me—what is worse, has such disdain
She will not even glance as I pass on?
Yes, night and day she brings me such great woe
That agony with sweat my brow’s bespent.
My soul burns, yet she does not care, I know.
I cannot think that Hell is different.
Often my friends say: ”Is she worth your grief?
She is a woman, that you realize,
And they are all the same, and that is ill.”
Yet since I love her beyond all belief,
I wait for Love to aid in my emprise.
All potent, he can do so if he will.

Cecco Angiolieri


Oh, am I not beset with the plague’s pain
Since I cannot give over loving one
Who hates me—what is worse, has such disdain
She will not even glance as I pass on?
Yes, night and day she brings me such great woe
That agony with sweat my brow’s bespent.
My soul burns, yet she does not care, I know.
I cannot think that Hell is different.
Often my friends say: ”Is she worth your grief?
She is a woman, that you realize,
And they are all the same, and that is ill.”
Yet since I love her beyond all belief,
I wait for Love to aid in my emprise.
All potent, he can do so if he will.