Authors: Mark Musa
Petrarch (41 page)
not sweeter or more kind
toward me in how she acts or what she says.
If ever I said it, then may I find
this short, hard road
full of my least desires
;
if I said it, may my fierce flame misguiding
grow equal to the hard ice inside her;
if I said it, may my eyes never see
the sun clear
nor his sister
but a storm full of terror
as
Pharaoh saw
when he pursued the Jews.
If I said it, with all the sighs I’ve breathed
may pity for me die, and courtesy;
if I said it, may words of hers turn bitter,
so sweet when I surrendered to her then;
if I said it, may she hate me who gladly,
alone and locked in darkness
from the first day I left
the breast till soul’s uprooted,
I would adore—and I
might just well do it
.
But if I did not
say it, may she who sweetly
opened my heart to hope when I was young
still steer this
weary little bark
of mine
with her own innate
mercy at the tiller
;
may she not change
, but be what she was like
when I no longer could
resist and lost myself,
and have no more to lose:
to forget so soon
such faithfulness
is wrong.
I never said it
, nor would I ever say it
not for the price of
gold, cities, or castles
;
so let truth conquer and
hold to the saddle
and all those lies fall vanquished to the ground!
Love, you know all that’s in me: if she asks,
then tell her what you must;
I’d say that he’s more blessed,
three, four, and six times
more
who dies before
he has to languish first.
Per
Rachel
ò servito e non per Lia,
né con altra saprei
viver; e sosterrei,
quando ’l ciel ne rappella,
girmen con ella in sul carro de Elia.
Ben mi credea passar mio tempo omai
come passato avea quest’anni a dietro,
senz’ altro studio et senza novi ingegni;
or poi che da Madonna i’ non impetro
l’usata aita, a che condutto m’ai
tu ’l vedi, Amor, che tal arte m’insegni.
Non so s’ i’ me ne sdegni,
che ’n questa età mi fai divenir ladro
del bel lume leggiadro
senza ’l qual non vivrei in tanti affanni.
Così avess’ io i primi anni
preso lo stil ch’ or prender mi bisogna,
che ’n giovenil fallir è men vergogna.
Li occhi soavi ond’ io soglio aver vita
de le divine lor alte bellezze
furmi in sul cominciar tanto cortesi,
che ’n guisa d’uom cui non proprie ricchezze
ma celato di for soccorso aita
vissimi, che né lor né altri offesi.
Or, ben ch’ a me ne pesi,
divento ingiurioso et importuno;
ché ’l poverel digiuno
ven ad atto talor che ’n miglior stato
avria in altrui biasmato.
Se le man di pietà invidia m’à chiuse,
fame amorosa e ’l non poter mi scuse.
For Rachel I have served and not for Leah,
nor with another
could
I live; and I’d endure,
to go with her
in Elijah’s chariot
.
I thought by now that I could live my life
as I have lived it during these past years,
without more study and
new stratagems
;
and now that I no longer have the help
I’m used to from my lady, you see, Love,
where you have led me
teaching me such art
.
It’s hard not to be angry
that at my age you turn me to a
thief
of that fair charming light
without which I would not live
in great pain
.
If I had only learned
in my first years
the style I now must take
,
for
there’s less shame
in failing
when
you’re young.
Those gentle eyes which were my source of life
were through their
beauty lofty and divine
so very kind to me at the beginning,
that like a man, who not by his own riches
but from
some hidden help that is external
,
I lived, and I harmed neither them nor her.
Now, though it gives me pain
I have
become annoying
, tiresome;
can do sometimes what in a better state
he would have blamed in others.
If pity’s hand is closed to me
by envy
,
let loving hunger and no strength excuse me.
Ch’ i’ ò cercate già vie più di mille
per provar senza lor se mortal cosa
mi potesse tener in vita un giorno.
L’anima, poi ch’ altrove non à posa,
corre pur a l’angeliche faville,
et io che son di cera al foco torno;
et pongo mente intorno
ove si fa men guardia a quel ch’ i’ bramo,
et come augel in ramo
ove men teme, ivi più tosto è colto,
così dal suo bel volto
l’involo or uno et or un altro sguardo,
et di ciò insieme mi nutrico et ardo.
Di mia morte mi pasco et vivo in fiamme,
stranio cibo et mirabil salamandra!
ma miracol non è, da tal si vole.
Felice agnello a la penosa mandra
mi giacqui un tempo; or a l’estremo famme
et Fortuna et Amor pur come sole:
così rose et viole
à primavera, e ’l verno à neve et ghiaccio.
Pero s’ i’ mi procaccio
quinci et quindi alimenti al viver curto,
se vol dir che sia furto,
sì ricca donna deve esser contenta
s’ altri vive del suo, ch’ ella nol senta.
Chi nol sa di ch’ io vivo, et vissi sempre
dal dì che ’n prima que’ belli occhi vidi
che mi fecer cangiar vita et costume?
Per cercar terra et mar da tutt’ i lidi
chi po saver tutte l’umane tempre?
L’un vive, ecco, d’odor là sul gran fiume,
io qui di foco et lume
queto i frali et famelici mei spirti.
Amor (et vo’ ben dirti),
disconvensi a signor l’esser sì parco.
Tu ài li strali et l’arco,
fa di tua man, non pur bramand’, io mora;
ch’ un bel morir tutta la vita onora.
I’ve searched more than a thousand ways by now
to see if there is any mortal thing
could keep me living just one day without them.
My soul which finds its rest no other place
keeps running still to those angelic sparks,
and I
a man of wax
, melt in the flame.
I look around
to see
where what I most desire is least guarded,
and like a bird in branches
that’s captured quicker where it’s least afraid,
so from her
lovely
face
I steal first one and then another glance
and by them I’m both nourished and I burn.
I feed on my own death and live in flames,
a strange food and a
wondrous salamander
!
But it’s no miracle—
he wills it so
.
A happy lamb within his sorry flock
I rested for awhile
; now at the end
Fortune and Love treat me
as they do others
:
like violets and roses
come with the spring, and ice and snow in winter.
And so if
here and there
I search for nourishment for my short life,
if she would call this theft,
so rich a lady ought to be content
to let one live on
what she does not miss
.
All know
on what I live and always have
from that first day I saw
those lovely eyes
that made me change my life and all my ways.
Search all the earth and sea on every shore—
who knows
all of man’s different temperaments?
There’s one who
lives by smell on the great river,
I, here, with light and fire
appease my fragile spirits that are starving.
Love (and I must say this)
such stinginess
does not befit a lord!
You have the bow and arrows,
let me die by your hand
and not from yearning,
for a
good death can honor
one’s whole life.
Chiusa fiamma è più ardente, et se pur cresce,
in alcun modo più non po celarsi.
Amor, i’ ’l so, che ’l provo a le tue mani.
Vedesti ben quando sì tacito arsi,
or de’ miei gridi a me medesmo incresce,
che vo noiando et prossimi et lontani.
O mondo, o penser vani!
O mia forte ventura, a che m’adduce?
O di che vaga luce
al cor mi nacque la tenace speme
onde l’annoda et preme
quella che con tua forza al fin mi mena!
La colpa è vostra et mio ’l danno et la pena.
Così di ben amar porto tormento,
et del peccato altrui cheggio perdono—
anzi del mio, che devea torcer li occhi
dal troppo lume, et di sirene al suono
chiuder li orecchi, et ancor non men pento
che di dolce veleno il cor trabocchi.
Aspett’ io pur che scocchi
l’ultimo colpo chi mi diede ’l primo;
et fia, s’ i’ dritto estimo,
un modo di pietate occider tosto,
non essendo ei disposto
a far altro di me che quel che soglia:
ché ben muor chi morendo esce di doglia.
Canzon mia, fermo in campo
starò, ch’ elli è disnor morir fuggendo;
et me stesso reprendo
di tai lamenti, sì dolce è mia sorte,
pianto, sospiri et morte.
Servo d’Amor che queste rime leggi:
ben non à ’l mondo che ’l mio mal pareggi.
A hidden flame
burns hottest
; should it grow,
there is no way for it to stay concealed;
you know this, Love, since I am
in you
r hands.
You saw it well when I burned in such silence;
now I myself
regret those cries
of mine,
for I’ve become a nuisance near and far.
O world,
O thought in vain
,
O my hard fortune, where are you taking me?
O from what lovely light
was that tenacious hope born in my heart
with which she
knots and chokes it
,
that one who with your power leads me to death!
The fault is yours
, and mine the loss and pain.
And so from loving well I bear the pain,
and for
another’s sin
I beg for pardon—
rather for mine, because I should have shut
my eyes from
too much light
and closed my ears
from siren song, but still I am not sorry
my heart is overflowing with
sweet poison
.
I wait for him who shot
the first to shoot the final shaft at me,
and it will be
, if I
am right, the kind of pity quick to kill,
since he is not disposed
to treat me differently than in the past:
to die well
is to die and leave the pain.
My song,
I’ll hold the field
,
for it’s dishonorable to die in flight;
and I reproach myself
for such laments; so sweet my destiny,
my tears and sighs, my death. Love’s servant,
you who read my verses here,
the world has no good
equal to my bad
.
Rapido fiume, che d’alpestra vena
rodendo intorno (onde ’l tuo nome prendi)
notte et dì meco disioso scendi
ov’ Amor me, te sol Natura mena:
vattene innanzi, il tuo corso non frena
né stanchezza né sonno; et pria che rendi
suo dritto al mar, fiso u’ si mostri attendi
l’erba più verde et l’aria più serena.
Ivi è quel nostro vivo et dolce sole
ch’ adorna e ’nfiora la tua riva manca;
forse (o che spero!) el mio tardar le dole.
Basciale ’l piede o la man bella et bianca;
dille e ’l basciar sie ’n vece di parole:
“Lo spirto è pronto, ma la carne è stanca.”
I dolci colli ov’ io lasciai me stesso,
partendo onde partir giamai non posso,
mi vanno innanzi, et emmi ogni or a dosso
quel caro peso ch’ Amor m’à commesso.
Meco di me mi meraviglio spesso
ch’ i’ pur vo sempre, et non son ancor mosso
dal bel giogo più volte indarno scosso,
ma com’ più me n’allungo et più m’appresso.
Et qual cervo ferito di saetta
col ferro avelenato dentr’ al fianco
fugge et più duolsi quanto più s’affretta,
tal io, con quello stral dal lato manco
che mi consuma et parte mi diletta,
di duol mi struggo et di fuggir mi stanco.
Rapid
river
, coming from alpine source
gnawing (from which your name derives) your way,
who night and day with me
descends in yearning
where Love leads me,
and you by Nature only
,
flow on ahead
; your course is not impeded
by sleep or weariness; before you
give the sea
its due, look closely where the grass appears
more green and where the air is more serene.
There is
that sun of ours
alive and sweet,
adorning, turning
your left bank
to flowers;
perhaps (oh what hope!)
my
slowness
makes her grieve.
And
kiss her foot
or white
and lovely hand
;
tell her, and let your kiss
be like your words
:
”
The spirit’s ready
, but the flesh is weak.”
