Explore "Ogni Giorno MI Par Piu DI Mill' Anni" by Francesco Petrarca on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
FAR FROM FEARING, HE PRAYS FOR DEATH.
Each day to me seems as a thousand years, / That I my dear and faithful star pursue, / Who guided me on earth, and guides me too / By a sure path to life without its tears.
For in the world, familiar now, appears / No snare to tempt; so rare a light and true / Shines e'en from heaven my secret conscience through, / Of lost time and loved sin the glass it rears.
Not that I need the threats of death to dread, / (Which He who loved us bore with greater pain) / That, firm and constant, I his path should tread: / 'Tis but a brief while since in every vein / Of her he enter'd who my fate has been, / Yet troubled not the least her brow serene.
MACGREGOR.