Petrarch (60 page)

che quello stesso ch’ or per me si vole

sempre si volse; et s’ ella udia parole

o vedea ’l volto, or l’animo e ’l cor vede.

Ond’ i’ spero che ’nfin al Ciel si doglia

di miei tanti sospiri; et così mostra,

tornando a me si piena di pietate;

et spero ch’ al por giù di questa spoglia

venga per me con quella gente nostra,

vera amica di Cristo et d’onestate.

Vidi fra mille donne una già tale

ch’ amorosa paura il cor m’assalse,

mirandola in imagini non false

a li spirti celesti in vista eguale.

Niente in lei terreno era o mortale

si come a cui del Ciel, non d’altro, calse;

l’alma, ch’ arse per lei si spesso et alse,

vaga d’ir seco aperse ambedue l’ale,

ma tropp’ era alta al mio peso terrestre,

et poco poi n’uscì in tutto di vista,

di che pensando ancor m’aghiaccio et torpo.

O belle et alte et lucide fenestre

onde colei che molta gente attrista

trovò la via d’entrare in si bel corpo!

If love that’s virtuous can merit mercy

and
pity’s strong
as she has ever been,

I’ll find reward, for brighter than the sun

my faith is to the world
and to my lady

She
used to fear me
, now she knows for certain

the very thing I want now I
have always

wanted, and if she once
heard words
or saw

my face,
now she can see
my heart and soul.

And so I hope
Heaven will grieve at last

for all my sighs, and so it seems it does

as she returns to me so full of pity;

I hope when
these remains are left behind

she’ll come for me with all
that host of ours
,

who are true friends of
Christ and honesty
.

Among a thousand ladies
I saw one

so great that amorous fear besieged my heart,

observing her through
no false images
,

she looked just like a spirit of the heavens.

No signs of earth or mortal cares
in her,

like one she was who cared only for Heaven;

my soul which
burned and froze for her so often
,

yearning to follow her,
spread both its wings
.

Too high she was for earthly weight like mine,

and soon she was
out of my sight completely
—

I freeze
and stiffen
at the thought of it.

O lovely,
lofty windows
of clear light

where
she, who
makes so many people grieve,

found entrance
into such a splendid body!

Tornami a mente (anzi v’è dentro quella

ch’ indi per Lete esser non po sbandita)

qual io la vidi in su l’età fiorita

tutta accesa de’ raggi di sua Stella;

sì nel mio primo occorso onesta et bella

veggiola in sè raccolta et sì romita,

ch’ i’ grido: “Ell’ è ben dessa, ancor è in vita!”

e ’n don le cheggio sua dolce favella.

Talor risponde et talor non fa motto;

i’ come uom ch’ erra et poi più dritto estima

dico a la mente mia: “Tu se’ ’ngannata.

“Sai che ’n mille trecento quarantotto,

il dì sesto d’aprile, in l’ora prima

del corpo uscio quell’anima beata.”

Quel che d’odore et di color vincea

l’odorifero et lucido oriente,

frutti, fiori, erbe et frondi onde ’l ponente

d’ogni rara eccellenzia il pregio avea,

dolce mio lauro, ove abitar solea

ogni bellezza, ogni vertute ardente,

vedeva a la sua ombra onestamente

il mio signor sedersi et la mia dea.

Ancor io il nido di penseri eletti

posi in quell’alma pianta, e ’n foco e ’n gielo

tremando, ardendo, assai felice fui.

Pieno era il mondo de’ suoi onor perfetti,

allor che Dio per adornarne il Cielo

la si ritolse, et cosa era da lui.

She comes to mind
(no, she is always there—

not even
Lethe
can erase her image)

the way I saw her in her flowering,

all splendid in the rays
of her own star
.

I first encounter her so chaste and lovely,

and see her
so withdrawn
and on her own,

I cry, “
It’s truly she
, she’s still alive!”

I ask her for the gift
of her sweet words.

Sometimes she speaks, and sometimes not a word;

like one mistaken
who then thinks things out,

I tell my mind: “Yes, you
have been deceived
.

“
You do know
that in thirteen forty-eight,

at hour one of the sixth day of April

that soul now blest departed from its body.”

That, which
in fragrance and in hue
surpassed

the splendid, odoriferous Orient,

fruits, flowers
, grass, and leaves for which the West

is known for its unique supremacy,

sweet laurel, which is mine, the dwelling place

of every beauty,
every ardent virtue
,

saw in its shadow
decorously honest

sitting together there
my lord
and goddess.

And more, I built my nest of chosen thoughts

within that fertile tree, and
burning, freezing
,

aflame and trembling,
I was very happy
.

Her perfect qualities
then filled the world

when God in order
to adorn His Heaven

took her
, and she was worthy of His presence.

Lasciato ài, Morte, senza sole il mondo

oscuro et freddo, Amor cieco et inerme,

Leggiadria ignuda, le Bellezze inferme,

me sconsolato et a me grave pondo,

Cortesia in bando, et Onestate in fondo;

dogliom’ io sol né sol ò da dolerme,

ché svelt’ ài di vertute il chiaro germe:

spento il primo valor, qual fia il secondo?

Pianger l’aer et la terra e ’l mar devrebbe

l’urnan legnaggio, che senz’ ella è quasi

senza fior prato, o senza gemma anello.

Non la conobbe il mondo mentre l’ebbe;

conobbil’ io ch’ a pianger qui rimasi

e ’l Ciel che del mio pianto or si fa bello.

Conobbi (quanto il Ciel li occhi m’aperse,

quanto studio et Amor m’alzaron l’ali)

cose nove et leggiadre, ma mortali,

che ’n un soggetto ogni Stella cosperse.

L’altre tante si strane et si diverse

forme, altere celesti et immortali,

perché non furo a l’intelletto eguali

la mia debile vista non sofferse.

Onde quant’ io di lei parlai né scrissi,

ch’ or per lodi anzi a Dio preghi mi rende,

fu breve stilla d’infiniti abissi;

ché stilo oltra l’ingegno non si stende,

et per aver uom li occhi nel sol fissi,

tanto si vede men quanto più splende.

You have left, Death
, the world without its sun,

dark in the cold, and Love
unarmed and blind
,

and
charm naked
, and every beauty weak,

and
me here, unconsoled
, a heavy burden,

courtesy exiled
, chastity sunk low;

I grieve alone though
more have cause to grieve

for you’ve uprooted
the pure seed
of virtue—

once highest worth is dead,
what will be second
?

The air and earth and sea should all shed tears

for
mankind’s lineage
: her absence is

a field without flowers, a gemless ring.

The world did not know her
while she was here;

I knew her, I who am left here to weep

and Heaven
now made lovely
by my tears.

I knew—so much had Heaven
opened my eyes
,

such
diligence
and Love raised up my wings—

unusual and gracious things,
but mortal
,

which all the stars had showered on one subject.

Those many other so strange and wondrous

forms
of celestial immortality

because they were
no match
for my mind’s eye,

my weak sight was
not able to endure
.

And so, all that I spoke or wrote of her,

who for my praise now gives me
prayers to God
,

is a mere drop compared to
depthless seas
;

for pen cannot extend
beyond one’s wit
,

and though one has his eyes fixed on the sun,

the less he sees
the brighter shines its light
.

Dolce mio caro et prezioso pegno

che Natura mi tolse e ’l Ciel mi guarda:

deh, come è tua pietà ver me si tarda,

o usato di mia vita sostegno?

Già suo’ tu far il mio sonno almen degno

de la tua vista, et or sostien ch’ i’ arda

senz’ alcun refrigerio, et chi ’l retarda?

Pur lassù non alberga ira né sdegno,

onde qua giuso un ben pietoso core

talor si pasee delli altrui tormenti,

si ch’ elli è vinto nel suo regno Amore.

Tu che dentro mi vedi e ’l mio mal senti

et sola puoi finir tanto dolore,

con la tua ombra acqueta i miei lamenti.

Deh, qual pietà, qual angel fu si presto

a portar sopra ’l cielo il mio cordoglio?

ch’ ancor sento tornar pur come soglio

Madonna in quel suo atto dolce onesto

ad acquetare il cor misero et mesto,

piena sì d’umiltà, vota d’argoglio,

e ’n somma tal ch’ a morte i’ mi ritoglio,

et vivo, et ’l viver più non m’è molesto.

Beata s’è che po beare altrui

co la sua vista, o ver co le parole

intellette da noi soli ambedui:

“Fedel mio caro, assai di te mi dole;

ma pur per nostro ben dura ti fui,”

dice, et cos’ altre d’arrestare il sole.

Sweet, precious, and so
cherished pledge
of mine

whom Nature took and
Heaven keeps for me
,

ah,
why is pity late
to reach me now,

O you, my
life’s habitual support
?

At least my
sleep
you once considered worthy

to show yourself, and now you let me burn

without relief—and
who delays its coming?

Up there, surely, there dwells no scorn or anger,

because of which
a pitying heart down here

sometimes will
feed upon another’s torment
,

so Love himself
in his own realm is vanquished
.

You, who can see
inside me
know my pain
,

and are the only one can end my grief,

with your own shadow
quiet my laments.

What pity, ah, what angel was so swift

to carry through the heavens
my heart’s grief?

Again I feel, as in the past, returning,

my lady
in her own way
chaste and sweet

to bring peace to my sad and
wretched heart
;

full of humility
, empty of pride

she is, such that I now
draw back from death

and live, and living is no longer hard.

Blessèd is she who can make others blest

by seeing her,
or with those words of hers

that only for the two of us
had meaning
:

“My dear and faithful one, I grieve for you;

but for our own good
I was cruel to you
,”

she says, and more, enough to stay
the sun
.

Del cibo onde ’l signor mio sempre abonda,

lagrime et doglia, il cor lasso nudrisco;

et spesso tremo et spesso impallidisco,

pensando a la sua piaga aspra et profonda.

Ma chi né prima simil né seconda

ebbe al suo tempo, al letto in ch’ io languisco

vien tal ch’ a pena a rimirarl’ ardisco,

et pietosa s’asside in su la sponda.

Con quella man che tanto desiai

m’asciuga li occhi, et col suo dir m’apporta

dolcezza ch’ uom mortal non sentì mai:

“Che val,” dice, “a saver chi si sconforta?

Non pianger più, non m’ài tu pianto assai?

ch’ or fostu vivo com’ io non son morta!”

Ripensando a quel ch’ oggi il Cielo onora

soave sguardo, al chinar l’aurea testa,

al volto, a quella angelica modesta

voce che m’addolciva et or m’accora,

gran meraviglia ò com’ io viva ancora;

né vivrei già, se chi tra bella e onesta

qual fu più lasciò in dubbio, non si presta

fusse al mio scampo là verso l’aurora.

O che dolci accoglienze et caste et pie!

et come intentamente ascolta et nota

la lunga istoria de le pene mie!

Poi che ’l dì chiaro par che la percota,

tornasi al Ciel, ché sa tutte le vie,

umida li occhi et l’una et l’altra gota.

The food with which
my lord
always abounds,

sorrow and tears, I feed my weary heart;

I tremble often, often I turn pale

when I think of its deep and bitter wound.

But she, who had
no equal or a second

when she was living,
comes to my sickbed
—

I hardly dare to gaze
on such a one
—

and full of pity she sits
on the edge
.