Sonnet 102 [If no love is, O God, what fele I so?]

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If no love is, O God, what fele I so? 
    And if love is, what thing and which is he? 
    If love be good, from whennes cometh my woo? 
    If it be wikke, a wonder thynketh me, 
    When every torment and adversite 
    That cometh of hym, may to me savory thinke, 
    For ay thurst I, the more that ich it drynke. 
And if that at myn owen lust I brenne, 
    From whennes cometh my waillynge and my pleynte? 
    If harm agree me, whereto pleyne I thenne? 
    I noot, ne whi unwery that I feynte. 
    O quike deth, O swete harm so queynte, 
    How may of the in me swich quantite, 
    But if that I consente that it be? 
And if that I consente, I wrongfully 
    Compleyne, iwis.   Thus possed to and fro, 
    Al sterelees withinne a boot am I 
    Amydde the see, betwixen wyndes two, 
    That in contrarie stonden evere mo. 
    Allas! what is this wondre maladie? 
    For hete of cold, for cold of hete, I dye.

More by Petrarch

Sonnet 101 [Ways apt and new to sing of love I'd find]

Ways apt and new to sing of love I'd find,
Forcing from her hard heart full many a sigh,
And re-enkindle in her frozen mind
Desires a thousand, passionate and high;
O'er her fair face would see each swift change pass,
See her fond eyes at length where pity reigns,
As one who sorrows when too late, alas!
For his own error and another's pains;
See the fresh roses edging that fair snow
Move with her breath, that ivory descried,
Which turns to marble him who sees it near;
See all, for which in this brief life below
Myself I weary not but rather pride
That Heaven for later times has kept me here.

Sonnet 131 [I'd sing of Love in such a novel fashion]

I'd sing of Love in such a novel fashion
that from her cruel side I would draw by force
a thousand sighs a day, kindling again
in her cold mind a thousand high desires;

I'd see her lovely face transform quite often
her eyes grow wet and more compassionate,
like one who feels regret, when it's too late,
for causing someone's suffering by mistake;

And I'd see scarlet roses in the snows,
tossed by the breeze, discover ivory
that turns to marble those who see it near them;

All this I'd do because I do not mind 
my discontentment in this one short life,
but glory rather in my later fame.