- XVI -

Amor, debdo e voluntad buena
doler me fazen de vuestra dolor,
e non poco me pena vuestra pena,
e me atormenta la vuestra largor.

Çierto bien siento que no fue terrena
aquella flamma nin la su furor
que vos inflamma e vos encadena,
ínfima cárcel, mas çeleste amor.

Pues, ¿qué diré? remedio es olvidar;
mas ánimo gentil atarde olvida,
e yo conozco ser bueno apartar.

Pero desseo consume la vida;
assí diría, sirviendo, esperar
ser qualque alivio de la tal ferida.

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Citation Suggestion for this Edition: TextGrid Repository (2026). Santillana, Iñigo López de. - XVI -. Corpus of Spanish Golden-Age Sonnets. https://hdl.handle.net/21.11113/4n7sz.0