European Elegies/Autumn (1)/A little dust
10.A LITTLE DUST
The eyes that stirred my passioned eloquence, The arms that held me fast, the hallowed face That made my heart ecstatic by its grace And walled me round with dream's circumference,The golden ringlets' soft munificence, And the angelic lips whose laugh could raise The joy of paradise in this poor place Are but a little dust, forlorn of sense.I linger on; despising life, I lie Without the light that once made day so fair And by withdrawal darkens every sky.My songs of love are mute: in this chill air My veins of poesy grow void and dry, My numb hand harps the discords of despair.
From the Italian of Francesco Petrarca.