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A new love's granted me a boon forevermore
—that way: illuminating Mind
& soul! No more do I implore
of God than He make Chance blind to my existence.

 My joy's increased by th'very sadness that once was
—So free of fear am I of what has been
that from the very poisoned glass
I drank, I've drawn th'golden strength of life's sweet argentine.

 Above me then a mighty plague proceeded
(which even birds' remotest flight exceeded)
and, in this way, all that life reared.

 But, gradually, its cruel power's disappeared
and now —out of the very ill it had ordained—
with that much greater health remains what has remained.

De la edición de Obras de Boscán y Garcilaso (portada)

Juan Boscán

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