Upon the breeze she spread her golden hair that in a thousand gentle knots was turned and the sweet light beyond all radiance burned in eyes where now that radiance is rare; and in her face there seemed to come an air of pity, true or false, that I discerned: I had love’s tinder in my breast unburned, was it a wonder if it kindled there? She moved not like a mortal, but as though she bore an angel’s form, her words had then a sound that simple human voices lack; a heavenly spirit, a living sun was what I saw; now, if it is not so, the wound’s not healed because the bow goes.
Erano i capei d’oro a l’aura sparsi che ’n mille dolci nodi gli avolgea, e ’l vago lume oltra misura ardea di quei begli occhi, ch’or ne son sì scarsi; e ’l viso di pietosi color’ farsi, non so se vero o falso, mi parea: i’ che l’esca amorosa al petto avea, qual meraviglia se di sùbito arsi? Non era l’andar suo cosa mortale, ma d’angelica forma; e le parole sonavan altro che, pur voce umana; uno spirto celeste, un vivo sole fu quel ch’i’ vidi: e se non fosse or tale, piagha per allentar d’arco non sana
