oil & acrylic on panel

4 x 2.5 in

From the Italian madrigal ‘Il Bianco e Dolce Cigno’

Rough translation:

The gentle whiteswandies singing, and I, moaning, reach the end of my life. Strange and contrary fortune, that he dies comfortless, and I die blessed. A death that in dying, fills me with joy and desire. If in dying I felt no other sorrow I would be happy to die a thousand deaths a day.