Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate'. - Dante Alighieri

He who best discerns the worth of time is most distressed whenever time is lost.

Time and again the thought comes to my mind
of the dark condition Love imparts to me;
then the pity of it strikes me, and I ask:
“Could ever anyone have felt the same?”
For Love’s attack is so precipitous
that life itself all but abandons me:
nothing survives except one lonely spirit,
allowed to live because it speaks of you. With hope of help to come I gather courage,
and deathly languid, drained of all defenses,
I come to you expecting to be healed;
and if I raise my eyes to look at you,
within my heart a tremor starts to spread,
driving out life, stopping my pulses’ beat.

Because our eyes were fixed on earthly things,
at no point raised to look towards the heights,
so justice sinks them here within the earth.

Since avarice extinguished all our love
for any good, and so good works were lost
justice here holds us tight within its grip.