Speak in Poetry

[JakeTulane]

Hor che'l ciel, e la terra, e'l vento tace,
E le fere, e gli augelli sonno affrena,
Notte il carro stellato in giro mena,
E nel suo letto il mar senz'onda giace;
Veglio, penso, ardo, piango; e chi mi sface,
Sempre m' innanzi per mia dolce pena:
Guerra il mio stato, d'ira e di duol piena;
E sol di lei pensando ho qualche pace:

Cosoe sol d'una chiara fonte viva Move il dolce,
e l'amaro, ond'io mi pasco: Una man sola mi risana,
e punge; E perch il mio martir non giunga a riva,
Mille volte il doe moro, e mille nasco;
Tanto dalla salute mia son lunge.

Translation:

Now, while the heavens, and the earth, and the winds are still, And beasts and birds are locked in sleep,
Night's starry chariot makes its circles, and in its bed the ocean lies waveless;
I watch, I think, I burn, I weep, and she who caused my anguish is ever present, and remains, to my sweet pain:
Warfare is my state, full of anger and pain, and only thoughts of her bring any peace.

Thus from one pure and living fount flows the sweetness and the suffering on which I feed;
a single hand restores me and wounds;
and, since my anguish knows no end, a thousand times a day I die,
and a thousand times I am born,
so great is the distance from my salvation.