After Petrarch — Volo con l'ali de’ pensieri al Cielo

So often, in these years, my thoughts take flight
to Heaven, that I seem almost like those who’ve died:
the veil which dulled their sight is torn and cast aside;
they hold their treasure in that greater light.

Sometimes she speaks. ‘Dear friend…’ I hear her say,
(I tremble and turn pale; cold sweat forms on my brow)
‘…know that I honour and I truly love you, now
 your lusts are tempered and your hair is grey.’

She takes me to her Lord; to whom I bow
and humbly beg my Saviour to allow
that I may see their faces. He replies,

‘Your destiny is fixed; and though you may
for twenty — even thirty — years delay
below, it’s but a moment in our eyes.’