1. O you who reproach me for a love that once was mine—

    it was a stairway by which I climbed to Spica, the Unarmed.

  2. Without it, I would never have tamed Time and led it

    by force, and so made noble deeds and glory bear fruit for me.

  3. It enabled me to attain loftiness and its treasure,

    until I became acclaimed among all people.

  4. Without it, I would not have braved hardships, sweeping them away,

    broad-hearted, smiling, radiant;

  5. nor—never—would I have mounted the seas as an adventurer,

    pressing onward, or crossed the boundless deserts and wastes.

  6. For it is love that forcibly drew the ranks of honor near

    to me, and through them I became the foremost, most exemplary notable.

  7. Through its grace I won the insignia of kings,

    and by its power life's secret was unveiled to me.

  8. It refined my youthful passion and ennobled

    my poetic gift, until it poured forth sweet magic.

  9. Had its breeze not revived my inspirations,

    grief's scorching winds would have swept me toward decay.

  10. Without it, I would have been lowlier than anyone who trod the earth,

    a callow dullard, shackled by obscurity.

  11. Existence would have gained nothing worthwhile from me,

    nor would I deserve from humankind anything but loathing.

  12. Blame me, wrong me then; taunt me; prolong your reproach; squander

    my merit; permit my killing—for I am not one who forgets.

  13. I am passion itself, passion's son, and passion's father—

    passion's slave, passion's king—so go to...

Sol 5.6