CANTO 50
If only I had your cuntscent on my fingers, taste on my lips of yours that sucked my fingers, your fingers phantoms fondling my cock, breasts in my hands, likewise, your kisses- Ah, your kisses-our kisses that would draw the rest from us still on my mouth. But when will Heaven's gate admit That part of me carved for the task, carved, curved, craved by your sweet self? Go, anguished sighs, tell her I can No longer bear to dream of pelvic thrusts to complete my happiness, and so, I growl my woe. ______________ A rare item in these translations, the above is a far older order of the English sonnet. It is as
though, having to show us he could do it, he thenceforth elected to follow forms that focus,
mindful of their meaning, on what Petrarch means to be saying.