Sonnet 42---Petrarch, translated by Joseph Auslander

The spring returns, the spring wind softly blowing 

Sprinkles the grass with gleam and glitter of showers, 

Powdering pearl and diamond, dripping with flowers, 

Dropping wet flowers, dancing the winter's going; 

The swallow twitters, the groves of midnight are glowing

With nightingale music and madness; the sweet fierce powers 

Of love flame up through the earth; the seed-soul towers 

And trembles; nature is filled to overflowing… 

The spring returns, but there is no returning 

Of spring for me. O heart with anguish burning! 

She that unlocked all April in a breath

Returns not…And these meadows, blossoms, birds

These lovely gentle girls—words, empty words

As bitter as the black estates of death!