Love is not a fire to be shut up in a soul. Everything betrays us: voice, silence, eyes; half-covered fires burn all the brighter.
The glory of my name increases my shame. Less known by mortals, I could better escape their eyes.
My death, taking the light from my eyes, gives back to the day the purity which they soiled.
Hell, covering all with its gloomy vapors, has cast shadows on even the holiest eyes.
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