Here you will find the Poem Rime 43 of poet Gaspara Stampa
Harsh is my fortune, but harsher still is the fate dealt me by my count: he flees from me, I follow him; others long for me, I cannot look at another man's face. I hate him who loves me,love him who scorns me; against the humble lover, my heart rebels, but I am humble to him who kill my hope; my soul longs for such harmful food. He constantly gives me cause for anger, while others seek to give me comfort and peace; these I ignore, and I cling instead to him. Thus in your school, Love, we receive always the opposite of what we deserve: the humble are despised, the heartless rewarded.