Though you’ve left me to bear my pain alone,
Sennuccio, I still am comforted
because, transformed, with head held high, you’ve flown
from flesh in which you were cooped up and dead.
You now can see both of earth’s poles at once,
the retrograde motion of the planets,
and how shortsighted people are, such that
my grief is tempered by your jubilance.
But I well may entreat you to salute
Guittone, Masters Cino and Dante,
our Franceschino—all that poetic host—
and tell my lady that tears constitute
a great part of my life, and I become a beast
recalling her fair face and deeds that were so saintly.