Nowhere but here might I so clearly see
that longed-for sight, since stolen from my eyes;
nowhere but here, at home, have I made free
to fill the heavens with these lover’s cries.
No valley that I know of offers more
safe places where my sighing may resound;
such pleasant love nests Venus never found
in Cyprus or on any other shore.
The waters speak of love, as does the air,
the branches and the little birds, the fish,
the flowers, the grass. They have a common wish
for me: ‘Love always’ is their constant prayer.
But you call me from Heaven, who were born
in happier times, and died in unripe youth.
The memory of your death pleads that I scorn
the world’s hooks sweetly baited for my mouth.
