Ballate
BALLATA VII
Being in thought of love I came upon
Two damsels strange
Who sang, “The joyous rains
Of love descend within us.”
So quiet in their modest courtesies
Their aspect coming softly on my vision
Made me reply, “Surely ye hold the keys
O’ the virtues noble, high, without omission.
Ah, little maids, hold me not in derision,
For the wound I bear within me
And this heart o’ mine ha’ slain me.
I was in Toulouse lately.”
And then toward me they so turned their eyes
That they could see my wounded heart’s ill ease,
And how a little spirit born of sighs
Had issued forth from out the cicatrice.
Perceiving so the depth of my distress,
She who was smiling, said,
“Love’s joy hath vanquished
This man. Behold how greatly!”
Then she who had first mocked me, in better part
Gave me all courtesy in her replies.
105
