Authors: Mark Musa
Petrarch (28 page)
are those who having heard of my true worth
have not felt in their hearts
for a short time at least some
sparks for me
:
but then
my enemy
who disturbs good
soon puts them out, and so all virtue dies
and another ruler reigns
who promises a life that is more tranquil.
About your mind Love, who first opened it,
tells me such things that I
can see your great desire
will make you worthy of an honored goal;
and since you are one of my rare friends now,
as test you’ll see a lady
who’ll make
your eyes more fortunate
by far.”
I almost said, “This is not possible,”
when she said: “Look now,
raise your eyes
a little,
to a lady who has shown herself to few.”
Immediately I bent my head
in shame
,
feeling a new and greater flame inside me,
and she made light of this,
saying: “I see quite clearly where you stand.
Just as the sun by means of its strong rays
makes every other star vanish from sight,
so now I seem less lovely
to one who’s overcome by greater light.
But I do not exclude you from my friends,
for she and I—she first,
then I—were products of
one seed, one birth
.”
With that
the knot of all my shame was broken
that had been tightly wound around my tongue
su nel primiero scorno,
allor quand’ io del suo accorger m’accorsi,
e ’ncominciai: “S’ egli è ver quel ch’ i’ odo,
beato il padre et benedetto il giorno
ch’ à di voi il mondo adorno
et tutto ’l tempo ch’ a vedervi io corsi!
“Et se mai da la via dritta mi torsi
duolmene forte assai più ch’ i’ non mostro;
ma se de l’esser vostro
fossi degno udir più, del desir ardo.”
Pensosa mi rispose et così fiso
tenne il suo dolce sguardo
ch’ al cor mando co le parole il viso:
“Sì come piacque al nostro eterno padre,
ciascuna di noi due nacque immortale.
Miseri, a voi che vale?
Me’ v’era che da noi fosse il defetto.
“Amate, belle, gioveni, et leggiadre
fummo alcun tempo; et or siam giunte a tale
che costei batte l’aie
per tornar a l’antico suo ricetto;
“i’ per me sono un’ombra. Et or t’ò detto
quanto per te sì breve intender puossi.”
Poi che i pie’ suoi fur mossi,
dicendo: “Non temer ch’ i’ mi allontani,”
di verde lauro una ghirlanda colse,
la qual co le sue mani
intorno intorno a le mie tempie avolse.
Canzon, chi tua ragion chiamasse oscura,
di’: “Non ò cura, perché tosto spero
ch’ altro messaggio il vero
farà in più chiara voce manifesto;
i’ venni sol per isvegliare altrui,
se chi m’impose questo
non m’ingannò quand’ io parti’ da lui.”
at the first sense of scorn,
when I took notice that she noticed me,
and I began
: “If what I hear is true,
blessèd the father
and blessèd the day
that have adorned the world with you
and all the times I ran to see you there!
And if I ever strayed from the straight path,
it pains me greatly,
much more than I show
;
but if I should be worthy
to know more what you’re like, I burn to know.”
Then full of thought she answered, and
she held
her gaze so fixed on me
that to my heart she sent her face with words:
“Just as it pleased our everlasting father,
the two of us were born to be immortal.
Better for you had we
possessed the defect
.
Beloved and lovely
, young and full of charm
we were at one time; now we’ve reached the point
in order to return to her old home.
I on my own
am shadow
. And now I’ve told you
as much as you can
understand in brief
.”
And as she moved to go
saying: “Don’t be afraid that I am going,”
she gathered up a
garland of green laurel
which with her own two hands
she started winding round and round my temples.
My song
, to those who call your
words obscure
say: “I don’t care, because I’m hoping soon
with clearer voice will clarify the truth;
I came only to wake up other men,
if he who ordered this
did not
deceive me
when I left his presence.”
Quelle pietose rime in ch’ io m’accorsi
di vostro ingegno e del cortese affetto,
ebben tanto vigor nel mio conspetto
che ratto a questa penna la man porsi,
per far voi certo che gli estremi morsi
di quella ch’ io con tutto ’l mondo aspetto
mai non senti’, ma pur senza sospetto
infin a l’uscio del suo albergo corsi;
poi tornai indietro, perch’ io vidi scritto
di sopra ’l limitar che ’l tempo ancora
non era giunto al mio viver prescritto,
ben ch’ io non vi legessi il di né l’ora.
Dunque s’acqueti omai ’l cor vostro afflitto,
et cerchi uom degno quando sì l’onora.
Or vedi, Amor, che giovenetta donna
tuo regno sprezza et del mio mal non cura,
et tra duo ta’ nemici è si secura.
Tu se’ armato, et ella in treccie e ’n gonna
si siede et scalza in mezzo i fiori et l’erba,
ver me spietata, e ’ncontr’ a te superba.
I’ son pregion, ma se pietà ancor serba
l’arco tuo saldo, et qualcuna saetta,
fa di te et di me, signor, vendetta.
Those rhymes of pity which made me aware
of all your talent and your kind affection
had so much power when I
took them in
that quickly I picked up this pen to write
and reassure you that
those final bites
from her whom I and all the world awaits
I’ve
not yet felt
, though I did without fear
once rush up to the
threshold
of her home;
then
I came back
, because I saw engraved
above it that the limit of the time
prescribed for me to live had not yet come,
although
I could not read
the day or hour.
And so now calm your heart that is afflicted
and find a man
worthy to be so honored
.
Now, Love
, just look how that young lady there
disdains your rule
and cares not for
my harm
and so securely sits
between two foes
.
You wear your
armor
, she
in braids and dress
sits barefoot there among the grass and flowers,
hardhearted against me and proud toward you.
I am a prisoner, but if some
mercy
still keeps your bow intact, with a few arrows,
take vengeance
for yourself and me, my Lord.
Dicesette anni à già rivolto il cielo
poi che ’mprima arsi, et giamai non mi spensi;
quando aven ch’ al mio stato ripensi,
sento nel mezzo de le fiamme un gelo.
Vero è ’l proverbio ch’ altri cangia il pelo
anzi che ’l vezzo, et per lentar i sensi
gli umani affetti non son meno intensi;
ciò ne fa l’ombra ria del grave velo.
Oi me, lasso! e quando fia quel giorno
che mirando il fuggir de gli anni miei
esca del foco et di si lunghe pene?
Vedrò mai il di che pur quant’ io vorrei
quell’aria dolce del bel viso adorno
piaccia a quest’occhi, et quanto si convene?
Quel vago impallidir, che ’l dolce riso
d’un’amorosa nebbia ricoperse,
con tanta maiestade al cor s’offerse
che li si fece incontr’ a mezzo ’l viso.
Conobbi allor sì come in paradiso
vede l’un l’altro; in tal guisa s’aperse
quel pietoso penser ch’ altri non scerse,
ma vidil io, ch’ altrove non m’affiso.
Ogni angelica vista, ogni atto umile
che giamai in donna ov’ amor fosse apparve,
fora uno sdegno a lato a quel ch’ io dico.
Chinava a terra il bel guardo gentile
et tacendo dicea, come a me parve:
“Chi m’allontana il mio fedele amico?”
Seventeen years the
heavens have revolved
since I
first burned
with fire that rages still;
when I think of the state that I am in
I feel a chill within those flames of mine.
How true
the saying is
: we lose our hair
before our habits, and though
senses slacken
the human passions are no less intense—
the bitter shadow of our
heavy veil
.
Ah grief! how long before I see the day
when, gazing at the
flight
my years have taken,
I step out
of my grievous trial by fire?
Will that day ever come when the sweet air
about her lovely visage
please these eyes
no more than I would wish, and than is fitting?
That charming paling of the face which covered
her smile of sweetness with the
mist of love
so
nobly was presented
to my heart
that
he went up
to meet it on my face.
I understood then
how in Paradise
one sees another—the way that thought of mercy
revealed itself no other could perceive,
but I saw it
, for I look nowhere else.
Every angelic look, all humble gestures
appearing in a lady where love dwells
would be like scorn
compared to what
I speak of.
She bent to earth her lovely, gracious glance,
and in her silence said,
it seemed to me
:
“
Who takes away
from me my faithful friend?”
Amor, Fortuna, et la mia mente, schiva
di quel che vede et nel passato volta,
m’affliggon sì ch’ io porto alcuna volta
invidia a quei che son su l’altra riva.
Amor mi strugge ’l cor, Fortuna il priva
d’ogni conforto, onde la mente stolta
s’adira et piange; et così in pena molta
sempre conven che combatiendo viva.
Né spero i dolci dì tornino indietro,
ma pur di male in peggio quel ch’ avanza,
et di mio corso ò già passato ’l mezzo.
Lasso, non di diamante ma d’un vetro
veggio di man cadermi ogni speranza
et tutt’ i miei pensier romper nel mezzo.
Se ’l pensier che mi strugge
com’ è pungente et saldo
così vestisse d’un color conforme,
forse tal m’arde et fugge
ch’ avria parte del caldo
et desteriasi Amor là dov’ or dorme;
men solitarie l’orme
foran de’ miei pie’ lassi
per campagne et per colli,
men gli occhi ad ogn’or molli,
ardendo lei che come un ghiaccio stassi
et non lascia in me dramma
che non sia foco et fiamma.
Però ch’ Amor mi sforza
et di saver mi spoglia,
parlo in rime aspre et di dolcezza ignude;
ma non sempre a la scorza
Fortune and love, and my own mind, which shuns
what it sees now and turns back to the past,
afflict me so that there are times I feel
envy for those who’ve
reached the other shore
.
While Love wears out my heart, Fortune deprives it
of any comfort
, and my
foolish mind
gets angry and it weeps—so in great pain
forever I must live and fight this way.
Nor can I hope
the sweet days
will return,
I see what’s left me go from bad to worse,
and I’ve already run
half of my course
.
Alas, not
made of diamond
but of glass
all of my hope I see slip from my hands
and every thought of mine
split down the middle
.
If this thought paining me,
as it is
sharp and constant
,
were clothed
in the right color
,
perhaps that one who burns me
and flees would feel some heat,
and Love would be awakened
where he sleeps
;
then less alone would be
my weary footprints left
through fields and over hills,
my eyes always less wet,
if she would burn who
stands there
now like ice
and leaves in me
no trace
that is not
flame and fire
.
Since Love is forcing me
but strips me of my skill,
my verse is harsh and naked of all sweetness;
not always on the outside
ramo né in fior né ’n foglia
mostra di for sua natural vertude.
Miri ciò che ’l cor chiude
Amor et que’ begli occhi
ove si siede a l’ombra.
Se ’l dolor che si sgombra
aven che ’n pianto o in lamentar trabocchi,
l’un a me noce, et l’altro
altrui, ch’ io non lo scaltro.
Dolci rime leggiadre
che nel primiero assalto
d’Amor usai quand’ io non ebbi altr’ arme:
chi verrà mai che squadre
questo mio cor di smalto,
ch’ almen com’ io solea possa sfogarme?