Sonnet from Vita nuova 15, Dante Alighieri

What holds me up, does die from within my mind,
whenever I am drawn to looking upon you,
dear gorgeous delight; and when I near you, I
perceive Love itself, who states: “Get going, if

dying is offensive to you.” My look alone
shows the hue of th’ interior heart which, in passing
out, will ask for aid, wherever it can; and,
inebriated as I was from great rumbling,

the stones seemed to grumble: “Die, do die!” It’s
a sin just to see me, if one does not console
my shell-shocked soul, by showing he has pity
on me, with piety, which your mockery does kill
off, devotion born from within my dying face —
by the eyes — as they desire for their dying.

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