Ogni amante

Every lover is a warrior; 
in his great kingdom,
Love also has his own army.
That flowering age, that can bear
the heavy weight of helmet and shield,
does lofty deeds in the assaults of love,
nor is it shameful to see the trembling hand
of old age causing the sword and lance to quiver
nor to hear a white-haired lover sighing.

Both the lover and the warrior
spend the frozen and serene nights keeping watch,
the one to protect the Captain's tents,
the other intent on watching his lover's walls.
Never does the soldier cease his labor,
nor does the true lover ever rest.

Both will climb the rugged peaks of lofty mountains,
both will boldly cross  torrents and rivers,
through rain and clouds.
Neither the vast ocean with its foaming waves
nor the terrifying blowing of Euro [east-southeast wind] or Aquilon [north wind]
could restrain their impetuous hearts.

If passion urges them to cross the sea
who else but he who follows the banner
of love or of Mars under the dark night sky
can endure rain, snow, or wind?
Cease, therefore, lying tongue,
from ever again calling love slothful or lascivious,
for love only lives in a warrior's heart.