Silence, I regard your starry mantle,
adorned with numerous transparent lights,
staunch enemy of the illustrious Sun,
nocturnal bird with song of prophesy.

The false magician Love, who casts a spell
of words dismembered by oblivion,
transformed my reason and all that I feel,
but had my body melt in misery.

You, who know my grief, and you, who were
the principal occasion of my strife,
because of whom I was both blessed and cursed,

hear my pain alone, since for a poor man
persecuted by a violent sky,
awareness of his suffering makes things worse.