The fire of love and the cold of time, deprive my sweet love of his peace of mind.
Without love, the world itself would not survive.
But life is short: while one lives, everything is lacking; when one is dead, everything is superfluous.
All right, then, I'll say it: Dante makes me sick.
There is no greater glory than love, nor any greater punishment than jealousy.
Dreaming of a tomorrow, which tomorrow, will be as distant then as 'tis today.