Petrarch (54 page)

I often would accuse
, but now excuse myself,

no, I respect and cherish myself more

thanks to the worthy prison, the sweet-bitter

blow
that I’ve born now many years enclosed.

Envious Fates, so suddenly you broke

the
spindle
that was spinning
soft
,
bright thread

around my bonds, and that
rare golden arrow

for which death is beloved
beyond all limits
!

For never was there any soul in love

with happiness and liberty and life

that would not change its natural tendency,

choosing rather to moan
because of her

than sing for someone else, and from such wounds

to die content and live in
such a knot
.

Two formidable rivals
were once joined,

Beauty and Chastity,
in such concordance

that
conflict in her holy soul
was never

felt from the moment they were joined in her.

And now they’re
scattered and disjoined
by Death;

one is in Heaven
, glorified, exalted,

one under ground
, which mantles those fair eyes

that once released so many
darts of love
.

The gracious way, the wise and humble speech

that
came from a high place
, and the sweet glance

that used to wound my heart (
it still shows signs
)

have vanished; and if I am slow to follow,

perhaps I shall succeed in consecrating

with weary pen her gracious, noble name.

Quand’ io mi volgo indietro a mirar gli anni

ch’ ànno fuggendo i miei penseri sparsi,

et spento ’l foco ove agghiacciando io arsi,

et finito il riposo pien d’affanni,

rotta la fé degli amorosi inganni,

et sol due parti d’ogni mio ben farsi,

l’una nel Cielo et l’altra in terra starsi,

et perduto il guadagno de’ miei danni,

i’ mi riscuoto, et trovomi si nudo

ch’ i’ porto invidia ad ogni estrema sorte,

tal cordoglio et paura ò di me stesso.

O mia Stella, o Fortuna, o Fato, o Morte,

o per me sempre dolce giorno et crudo,

come m’avete in basso stato messo!

Ov’ è la fronte che con picciol cenno

volgea il mio core in questa parte e ’n quella?

Ov’ è ’l bel ciglio et l’una et l’altra Stella

ch’ al corso del mio viver lume denno?

Ov’ è ’l
valor
, la conoscenza e ’l senno?

l’accorta, onesta, umil, dolce favella?

Ove son le bellezze accolte in ella

che gran tempo di me lor voglia fenno?

Ov’ è l’ombra gentil del viso umano

ch’ ora et riposo dava a l’alma stanca

et là ’ve i miei pensier scritti eran tutti?

Ov’ è colei che mia vita ebbe in mano?

Quanto al misero mondo, et quanto manca

agli occhi miei che mai non fien asciutti!

When I turn back to look upon those years

that flying by have
scattered all my thoughts

and quenched the fire
in which I, freezing, burned

and
ended my repose
so full of woes
,

broken the faith of amorous deceptions

and made two separate parts of all my good—

the one in Heaven, the other in the ground—

and lost the profits of my
painful gains
,

I’m startled and I feel
so very naked

that I envy
the gravest of misfortunes,

so much I
fear and suffer
for myself.

O Star of mine, O Chance, O Fate, O Death,

O Day
always so sweet yet cruel to me,

to what low state you have reduced me now!

Where is
the brow
that with the
slightest movement

could make my heart turn one way or another?

Where are the
lovely lashes and two stars

that shed their light upon my way of life?

Where is the valor, the knowledge, and the wit,

the prudent, honest, humble, gracious speech?

Where are the beauties gathered in her person,

that for so long have made of my will theirs?

Where is the
gracious image of a face

that to my tired soul gave shade and rest

and where my every thought was once recorded?

Where is the one who
had me in her hand
?

How much
this wretched world, how much my eyes,

that have no hope of drying, miss her now!

Quanta invidia io ti porto, avara terra

ch’ abbracci quella cui veder m’è tolto

et mi contendi l’aria del bel volto

dove pace trovai d’ogni mia guerra!

Quanta ne porto al Ciel che chiude et serra

et sì cupidamente à in sé raccolto

lo spirto da le belle membra sciolto,

et per altrui sì rado si diserra!

Quanta invidia a quell’anime che ’n sorte

ànno or sua santa et dolce compagnia,

la qual io cercai sempre con tal brama!

Quant’ a la dispietata et dura Morte,

ch’ avendo spento in lei la vita mia

stassi ne’ suoi begli occhi et me non chiama!

Valle che de’ lamenti miei se’ piena,

fiume che spesso del mio pianger cresci,

fere selvestre, vaghi augelli, et pesci

che l’una et l’altra verde riva affrena:

aria de’ miei sospir calda et serena,

dolce sentier che sì amaro riesci,

colle che mi piacesti, or mi rincresci,

ov’ ancor per usanza Amor mi mena:

ben riconosco in voi l’usate forme,

non, lasso, in me, che da sì lieta vita

son fatto albergo d’infinita doglia.

Quinci vedea ’l mio bene, et per queste orme

torno a vedere ond’ al Ciel nuda è gita,

lasciando in terra la sua bella spoglia.

How much
I envy you,
the greedy earth

embracing her the sight of whom I’ve lost,

begrudging me the air
of her sweet face

where I
settled for peace
in all my wars!

How much I envy
Heaven, that holds and locks

and
greedily has gathered
to itself

the spirit freed from her exquisite limbs

but that
rarely unlocks itself
for others!

How much I envy those souls chosen now

to have her sweet and holy company

that I sought endlessly with such desire!

How much that merciless, unfeeling Death,

who having quenched in her
my very life
,

lives in her lovely eyes
, but does not
call me
!

Valley,
so filled
with my lamenting words,

River, that swells so often with my tears,

beasts of the woods, wandering birds and fish

contained between green shores
on either side,

Air, that is
warmed and cleared
by
all my sighs
,

sweet path
,
that leads to so much bitterness
,

hill
, that once pleased and now displeases me,

where love still leads me as he always did,

how well I see in you your
usual traces
,

but not, alas, in me who from such gladness

have now become the
home of endless grief
.

From here I’d see my love, and
with these steps

I come to see the place where she went, bare,

to Heaven, leaving to earth her
lovely spoils
.

Levommi il mio penser in parte ov’ era

quella ch’ io cerco et non ritrovo in terra;

ivi fra lor che ’l terzo cerchio serra

la rividi più bella et meno altera.

Per man mi prese et disse: “In questa spera

sarai ancor meco, se ’l desir non erra;

i’ so’ colei che ti die’ tanta guerra

et compie’ mia giornata inanzi sera.

“Mio ben non cape in intelletto umano;

te solo aspetto, et quel che tanto amasti

et là giuso è rimaso, il mio bel velo.”

Deh, perché tacque et allargò la mano?

ch’ al suon de’ detti sì pietosi et casti,

poco mancò ch’ io non rimasi in Cielo.

Amor, che meco al buon tempo ti stavi

fra queste rive a’ pensier nostri amiche,

et per saldar le ragion nostre antiche

meco et col fiume ragionando andavi:

fior, frondi, erbe, ombre, antri, onde, aure soavi,

valli chiuse, alti colli, et piagge apriche,

porto de l’amorose mie fatiche,

de le fortune mie tante et si gravi:

o vaghi abitator de’ verdi boschi,

o ninfe et voi che ’l fresco erboso fondo

del liquido cristallo alberga et pasce:

i dì miei fur sì chiari, or son si foschi

come Morte che ’l fa! così nel mondo

sua ventura à ciascun dal di che nasce.

My thought lifted me up to where she was,

the one I seek and cannot find on earth;

there among those enclosed
in the third sphere

she looked
more lovely, less proud
than before.

She took my hand and said: “Here in this sphere,

desire unerring
, you’ll
be with me again
;

I am the one who made you
fight so hard

and who
ended my day
before night came
.

“My bliss no human mind can comprehend;

I only wait for you and what you loved

so much, and is down there,
my lovely veil
.”

Ah, why did she stop speaking and
drop my hand
?

For with the sound of words so kind and chaste

I came quite close to
never leaving Heaven
!

Love, who in those good times would be with me

along these banks, the friends of all our thoughts,

and who, to
settle all our old accounts
,

would walk and talk with me and with the river;

blooms
, leaves, grass, shade, caves, waves, and gentle breezes,

valleys enclosed
, high hills, and sprawling slopes,

harbor of all my amorous laborings,

of all my storms, so many and so heavy;

O carefree dwellers of the verdant woods,

O nymphs
, and
you whose
cool and grassy bed

of
liquid crystal
shelters and gives food:

my days were once so bright, now they are dark

as Death, the cause of it
. And so on earth

our destiny is with us
from our birth.

Mentre che ’l cor dagli amorosi vermi

fu consumato e ’n fiamma amorosa arse,

di vaga fera le vestigia sparse

cercai per poggi solitari et ermi;

et ebbi ardir, cantando, di dolermi

d’Amor, di lei che si dura m’apparse,

ma l’ingegno et le rime erano scarse

in quella etate ai pensier novi e ’nfermi.

Quel foco è morto e ’l copre un picciol marmo

che se col tempo fossi ito avanzando

(come già in altri) infino a la vecchiezza,

di rime armato ond’ oggi mi disarmo,

con stil canuto, avrei fatto parlando

romper le pietre et pianger di dolcezza.

Anima bella, da quel nodo sciolta

che più bel mai non seppe ordir Natura:

pon dal Ciel mente a la mia vita oscura,

da si lieti pensieri a pianger volta.

La falsa opinion dal cor s’è tolta

che mi fece alcun tempo acerba et dura

tua dolce vista; omai tutta secura

volgi a me gli occhi e i miei sospiri ascolta.

Mira ’l gran sasso donde Sorga nasce,

et vedra’vi un che sol tra l’erbe et l’acque

di tua memoria et di dolor si pasce;

ove giace il tuo albergo et dove nacque

il nostro amor vo’ ch’ abbandoni et lasce,

per non veder ne’ tuoi quel ch’ a te spiacque.

During that time my heart
by loving worms

was all devoured and burned with flames of love,

the scattered footprints of a
charming beast

I sought upon the lonely and wild hills;

and I dared in my verses to complain

of Love, of her, who seemed so cruel to me,

but wit and poetry were
not so strong

at that age of unstable and strange thoughts.

That fire’s dead
and covered by
meager marble
,

but
had it gone on growing
, as time passed,

as is the case with others
, until old age,

armed with the verse
I am rejecting now,

with style mature, I would have with my poems

shattered stone
, and made it weep with sweetness.

Beautiful soul, now loosened from that knot,

the loveliest that nature could create:

from Heaven now give thought to my dark life,

which once in happy thought has turned to tears.

Gone from your heart now is the
false opinion

that made at times your sweet appearance turn

severe and cruel
toward me;
now all secure
,

look upon me
and listen to my sighs.

Look to the
lofty rock
where Sorgue is born,

you’ll see one there amid the grass and waters

who
feeds upon
your memory and pain;

the place where
your house stands
and where our love