I FIND no peace, and all my war is done; <br />I fear and hope; I burn and freeze like ice; <br />I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise; <br />And nought I have, and all the world I seize on; <br />That looseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison <br />And holdeth me not, yet can I 'scape nowise; <br />Nor letteth me live nor die at my device, [by my own choice] <br />And yet of death it giveth none occasion. <br />Withouten eyen, I see; and without tongue I plain; [lament] <br />I desire to perish, and yet I ask health; <br />I love another, and thus I hate myself; <br />I feed me in sorrow, and laugh in all my pain; <br />Likewise displeaseth me both death and life; <br />And my delight is causer of this strife.<br /><br />Sir Thomas Wyatt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/translation-of-petrarch-s-rima-sonnet-134/
