Sonnet 2: L’ inseguitore

How sweet you are in my Edenic dream:

a blossom heavenly that never fades.

Unpicked by the experience’ hands, you teem

with blameless scent that of Eve overshades.

So spotless, you’re beyond my vain approach.

Before I even reached your radiance cool,

I lapsed; light crashed my dream. I did reproach

my self for th’ act of an Icarian fool.

Albeit th’ world is swamped with trembling fear,

beneath despair conceals the gold of hope.

In dreams the bitter ends are doomed to near.

In life the gates of chance forever ope.

Consume my corse and soul, I do not care.

This hopeless moth’s for flame of yours to tear.