Petrarch (50 page)

could ever match my sorrowful condition
?

Ah,
blind, ungrateful world
,

how right it is that you should weep with me,

for all the good in you you’ve lost with her.

Your glory’s fallen
, and
you do not see it
,

nor were you worthy while

she lived down here to have made her acquaintance

or to be touched by her angelic feet,

because a thing so lovely

should be adorning Heaven with its presence.

But I, alas, without her,

love neither mortal life nor my own self,

and weeping call her back:

this is what’s left to me
of so much hope

and this alone still keeps me going here.

Alas, to dust has turned her lovely face

which was the proof among us

of Heaven and the happiness up there!

Her invisible form is there in Paradise,

released now
from that veil

which shadowed here the flower of her years

to be
reclothed with it

another time
never to take it off,

when we see her become

all the more radiant and fair as beauty

eternal is more precious than what lives.

More fair than ever, a more tender lady

she comes back to my mind,

a place she knows the sight of her is welcome;

this is one column
that supports my life,

the other is her shining name

which sounds within my heart with so much sweetness.

When I recall to mind

that truly dead now is my hope, alive

while she was flowering
,

Love knows what I become, and I hope she

who is so
close to truth
can see it too.

Donne, voi che miraste sua beltate

et l’angelica vita

con quel celeste portamento in terra:

di me vi doglia, et vincavi pietate;

non di lei, ch’ è salita

a tanta pace, et m’à lassato in guerra

tal che s’ altri mi serra

lungo tempo il cammin da seguitarla,

quel ch’ Amor meco parla

sol mi riten ch’ io non recida il nodo.

Ma e’ ragiona dentro in cotai modo:

“Pon freno al gran dolor che ti trasporta,

ché per soverchie voglie

si perde ’l Cielo ove ’l tuo core aspira,

“dove è viva colei ch’ altrui par morta

et di sue belle spoglie

seco sorride et sol di te sospira,

“et sua fama, che spira

in moite parti ancor per la tua lingua,

prega che non estingua,

anzi la voce al suo nome rischiari,

se gli occhi suoi ti fur dolci né cari.”

Fuggi ’l sereno e ’l verde,

non t’appressare ove sia riso o canto,

canzon mia, no, ma pianto;

non fa per te di star fra gente allegra,

vedova sconsolata in veste negra.

Ladies, you who have wondered at her beauty

and her angelic life,

her attitude divine down here on earth,

grieve now for me,
let pity vanquish you
,

but not for her who rose

to such great peace and left me
here at war
;

so that if I am kept

for a long time from following her path,

it is what Love tells me

alone that will not let me
cut the knot
.

He speaks to me within
in such a way:

“
Control the pain
which carries you away,

for through
excessive passion

you 11 lose the Heaven your heart aspires to,

where she lives who to others now seems dead,

and at
her fair remains

she smiles within and
sighs only for you
,

and then her fame which lives

in many places, thanks to your own tongue,

she begs not be extinguished,

but rather with her name
brighten your voice
,

if ever you once cherished her sweet eyes.”

Flee the clear weather
and green fields,

do not go near where there is song and laughter,

no, my song, go where there’s weeping;

you are not fit for happy company,

a widow dressed in black, disconsolate.

Rotta è l’alta colonna e ’l verde lauro

che facean ombra al mio stanco pensero;

perduto ò quel che ritrovar non spero

dal borea a l’austro o dal mar indo al mauro.

Tolto m’ài, Morte, il mio doppio tesauro

che mi fea viver lieto et gire altero,

et ristorar nol po terra né impero,

né gemma oriental né forza d’auro.

Ma se consentimento è di destino,

che posso io più se no aver l’alma trista,

umidi gli occhi sempre, e ’l viso chino?

O nostra vita ch’ è sì bella in vista,

com’ perde agevolmente in un matino

quel che ’n molti anni a gran pena s’acquista.

Amor, se vuo’ ch’ i’ torni al giogo antico,

come par che tu mostri, un’altra prova

meravigliosa et nova

per domar me conventi vincer pria.

Il mio amato tesoro in terra trova,

che m’ è nascosto, ond’ io son sì mendico,

e ’l cor saggio pudico

ove suol albergar la vita mia;

et s’ egli è ver che tua potenzia sia

nel Ciel sì grande come si ragiona

et ne l’abisso (perché qui fra noi

quel che tu val’ et puoi

credo che ’l sente ogni gentil persona),

ritogli a Morte quel ch’ ella n’à tolto

et ripon le tue insegne nel bel volto.

Broken are the lofty column and green laurel

that for my weary cares
provided shade
;

I’ve lost what I can never hope to find,

from Boreas
to Auster, Indian to Moorish Sea.

You’ve taken from me, Death,
my double treasure

that let me live
with joy
and walk with pride,

and neither earth nor kingdom can restore it,

nor
oriental gem
nor
gold’s own power
.

But if this is the
wish of destiny
,

how can my soul be anything but sad,

my eyes forever wet,
my head bent low
?

O life of ours apparently so lovely,

how easily we lose in
just one morning

what we gained with great pain over the years.

Love, if you’d have me wear the
ancient yoke

again, as it seems you would, another test

astonishing and new

you’ll have to pass in order to
subdue me
.

Find my beloved treasure
in the earth,

hidden from me and leaving me so poor,

and find that wise, chaste heart,

the place my life was wont to
make its home
;

and if it’s true your power is as great

in Heaven, as men have said it is, as well

as the Abyss
(for here among us all

your power and your worth

I think is felt by every gracious soul),

take back from Death
the thing it took from us,

your colors raise again
on her fair face.

Riponi entro ’l bel viso il vivo lume

ch’ era mia scorta, et la soave fiamma

ch’ ancor, lasso, m’infiamma

essendo spenta. Or che fea dunque ardendo?

E’ non si vide mai cervo né damma

con tal desio cercar fonte né fiume

qual io il dolce costume

onde ò già molto amaro; et più n’attendo,

se ben me stesso et mia vaghezza intendo,

che mi fa vaneggiar sol del pensero

et gire in parte ove la strada manca,

et co la mente stanca

cosa seguir che mai giugner non spero.

Or al tuo richiamar venir non degno,

che segnoria non ài fuor del tuo regno.

Fammi sentir de quell’aura gentile

di for, si come dentro ancor si sente,

la qual era possente,

cantando, d’acquetar li sdegni et l’ire,

di serenar la tempestosa mente

et sgombrar d’ogni nebbia oscura et vile,

ed alzava il mio stile

sovra di sé dove or non poria gire.

Aguaglia la speranza col desire,

et poi che l’alma è in sua ragion più forte,

rendi agli occhi, agli orecchi il proprio oggetto

senza qual imperfetto

è lor oprare e ’l mio vivere è morte.

Indarno or sovra me tua forza adopre

mentre ’l mio primo amor terra ricopre.

Fa’ ch’ io riveggia il bel guardo ch’ un sole

fu sopra ’l ghiaccio ond’ io solea gir carco;

fa’ ch’ i’ ti trovi al varco

onde senza tornar passo ’l mio core;

prendi i dorati strali et prendi l’arco,

et facciamisi udir sì come sole

col suon de le parole

ne le quali io imparai che cosa è amore.

Movi la lingua ov’ erano a tutt’ore

disposti gli ami ov’ io fui preso et l’esca

Put back in her fair eyes the living light

that was my guide and the
endearing flame

which still, alas, inflames me,

though spent. Oh what it did while it still burned!

One never saw a
doe or stag
in search

of spring or river with so much desire

as I seek those sweet ways

which gave me so much pain,
and more to come
,

since well I know myself
and how I yearn,

which merely thinking of it drives me mad

and takes me down a path that leads nowhere,

and with my weary mind

follows a thing I never hope to reach.

I do not deign to answer to your call,

you have no power outside your own kingdom
.

Around me let me feel that gentle aura

as I still feel it here inside of me,

aura which had the power,

singing, to quiet all disdain and anger,

to make serene the mind tempestuous

and clear it of all
dark and heavy mist
,

to lift my style to heights

beyond itself where now it
cannot reach
.

Make equal now my hope to my desire,

and since the
soul is stronger in its rights
,

give back to eyes and ears
their proper object

without which thing
imperfect

their functioning is, and my life is a death.

In vain now
you exert your force
on me,

While my first love is covered by the earth.

Let me behold again that lovely glance

that was
sunlight on ice
that weighed me down;

be at the
passageway

through which my heart passed never to return;

pick up your golden arrows, take the bow,

and
let me hear
, as once I heard her speak

with sounding of those words

from which I learned what love is all about.

And move that tongue where there were ever set

those
hooks
that always caught me and the bait

ch’ i’ bramo sempre; e i tuoi lacci nascondi

fra i capei crespi et biondi,

ché ’l mio volere altrove non s’invesca;

spargi co le tue man le chiome al vento,

ivi mi lega, et puo’ mi far contento.

Dal laccio d’or non sia mai chi me scioglia

negletto ad arte, e ’nnanellato et irto,

né de l’ardente spirto

de la sua vista dolcemente acerba,

la qual dì et notte più che lauro o mirto

tenea in me verde l’amorosa voglia

quando si veste et spoglia

di fronde il bosco et la campagna d’erba.

Ma poi che Morte è stata sì superba

che spezzò il nodo ond’ io temea scampare,

né trovar poi quantunque gira il mondo

di che ordischi ’l secondo,

che giova, Amor, tuoi ingegni ritentare?

Passata è la stagion, perduto ài l’arme

di ch’ io tremava: ormai che puoi tu farme?

L’arme tue furon gli occhi onde l’accese

saette uscivan d’invisibil foco,

et ragion temean poco

ché ’ncontra ’l Ciel non val difesa umana,

il pensar e ’l tacer, il riso e ’l gioco,

l’abito onesto e ’l ragionar cortese,

le parole che ’ntese

avrian fatto gentil d’alma villana,

l’angelica sembianza umile et piana

ch’ or quinci or quindi udia tanto lodarsi,

e ’l sedere et lo star che spesso altrui

poser in dubbio a cui

devesse il pregio di più laude darsi:

con quest’armi vincevi ogni cor duro;

or se’ tu disarmato, i’ son securo.

Gli animi ch’ al tuo regno il cielo inchina

leghi ora in uno et ora in altro modo,

ma me sol ad un nodo

legar potei, ché ’l ciel di più non volse.

I always long for; and then hide your snares

in her hair blond and curly
,

for only there my longings are entwined;

with your hands spread her locks upon the wind

and bind me there, and you will make me happy.

No one shall free me from that golden snare,

neglected artfully and thick
with ringlets,

nor from the burning spirit

within her eyes, a light that’s
sweetly cruel
,

that more than
myrtle, laurel
, day and night

kept green inside of me
my amorous passion,

when woods put on or lose

their leaves and all the countryside its green.

But since Death acted with
so much bold pride
,

breaking the knot
from which I feared escape
,

nor can you find, though you may search the world,

a second knot to tie
,

why bother, Love, to ply your art again?

Past is the season, you have lost the arms

that made me tremble: now what can you do?

Your arms were eyes from which shot forth those arrows

lit with
invisible fires
, and they had