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1508–1575

LXXXIV

Berardino Rota

Caro dolce mio male, ne’ be’ vostr’occhi Amor tien gli occhi suoi, ne la man tien lo strale, e quanto voi volete

tanto egli vole e vale; anzi, sì bella sete che, s’a lo specchio mai vi rivolgete, ho gelosia (chi ’l crederia?) di voi.

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LXXXIV · Berardino Rota · Poetry Cove