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What Love can do (or just the right woman)...a poem by Petrarch

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I find no peace, and have no arms for war,

and fear and hope, and burn and yet I freeze,

and fly to heaven, lying on earth’s floor,

and nothing hold, and all the world I seize.

My jailor opens not, nor locks the door,

nor binds me to her, nor will loose my ties;

Love kills me not, nor breaks the chains I wear,

nor wants me living, nor will grant me ease.

I have no tongue, and shout; eyeless, I see;

I long to perish, and I beg for aid;

I love another, and myself I hate.

Weeping I laugh, I feed on misery,

by death and life so equally dismayed:

for you, my lady, am I in this state.


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