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To Himself

from Remembrances by Vedova



Now you must rest forever, my weary heart. The last deceit has died, I had thought everlasting. Died. I feel not hope alone, desire for dear deceits in us come to fail.
Now rest for ever. You have throbbed sufficiently. Nothing is worth one beat of yours: nor is it worthy sighs, this earth.
Bitterness, boredom are all life is; and all the world is mud.
Lie quietly Despair this final time. Fate granted to our kind nothing but dying. Now despise yourself, nature (the brutal force that furtively ordains the general harm), and this infinity of nothingness.

(1833, Florence)


from Remembrances, released May 6, 2014


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