I do not have respite

I do not have respite

Nor do I know any longer how to hope for peace

Since, stealing embers from two eyes,

A spark from their pupils,

I burned with such a fire

That, to put it out a little

Not even the sea would suffice.

If I could at least tell her

Those bitter complaints with which I suffer!

Little breezes, you alone could say to her, in the meantime,

That I languish, that I burn,

That I die of love.

For a better fate I would like as companion

A serpent, a toad, or a stubborn mule,

Rather than this, my baleful love

Which so tortures me, bites and afflicts me,

And is my torment at every moment.