Petrarch, "S'io credesse per morte essere scarco"

A work ("If I believed through death myself released") by this Italian poet.  You can read the original here. 

If I believed through death myself released, 
Of loving thoughts which bind me to this earth, 
Already placed would be my hands inert,
Each dull limb burdenless beneath the peat;   

But since I fear a passageway would bend
'Twixt crying eyes, from war to bloody war,  
So I remain, alas, behind a door,  
Amidst a serried path of doubtful end.   

Enough time's laps'd for final bowstrings drawn  
In arrows merciless, tint'd in their aim
With others' blood, nay bathed, my whole to breach;  

Yet deafest Love I still cannot beseech,
Who left me color'd in his painted frame,  
Forgetful now to call me to his pawn.