Petrarch (32 page)

to see those
deep red roses
in the snow

moved by the breeze
, the
ivory uncovered

that
turns to marble
who observes it close,

and all of her that has made this short life

not burdensome to bear, but rather glorious

in keeping for a
season more mature
.

If it’s not love, then what is it I feel:

but if it’s love,
by God, what
is this thing?

If good
, why then the bitter mortal sting?

If bad, then why is every torment sweet?

If I burn
willingly, why weep and grieve?

And
if against
my will, what good lamenting?

O living death
, O pleasurable harm,

how can you rule me if I not consent?

And if I do consent, it’s wrong to grieve.

Caught in contrasting winds
in a frail boat

on the high seas I am without a helm,

so light of wisdom, so laden of error,

that I myself do not know what I want,

and
shiver
in midsummer, burn in winter.

Amor m’à posto come segno a strale,

come al sol neve, come cera al foco,

et come nebbia al vento; et son già roco,

Donna, mercé chiamando, et voi non cale.

Dagli occhi vostri uscio ’l colpo mortale

contra cui non mi val tempo né loco;

da voi sola procede (et parvi un gioco)

il sole e ’l foco e ’l vento ond’ io son tale.

I pensier son saette, e ’l viso un sole,

e ’l desir foco; e ’nseme con quest’arme

mi punge Amor, m’abbaglia et mi distrugge;

et l’angelico canto et le parole,

col dolce spirto ond’ io non posso aitarme,

son l’aura inanzi a cui mia vita fugge.

Pace non trovo et non ò da far guerra,

e temo et spero, et ardo et son un ghiaccio,

et volo sopra ’l cielo et giaccio in terra,

et nulla stringo et tutto ’l mondo abbraccio.

Tal m’à in pregion che non m’apre né serra,

né per suo mi riten né scioglie il laccio,

et non m’ancide Amore et non mi sferra,

né mi vuol vivo né mi trae d’impaccio.

Veggio senza occhi, et non ò lingua et grido,

et bramo di perir et cheggio aita,

et ò in odio me stesso et amo altrui.

Pascomi di dolor, piangendo rido,

egualmente mi spiace morte et vita.

In questo stato son, Donna, per vui.

Love’s made me like a
target for his arrows
,

like snow
in sun, like wax within a fire,

and like the mist in wind; and now
I’m hoarse
,

lady, from begging mercy—and you don’t care.

From out your eyes there came the
mortal blow

against which time and place are of no use;

from you alone there comes (
you take it lightly
)

the sun, fire, and wind that
make me such
.

Your thoughts
are arrows and your face a sun,

desire, fire: with these arms all at once

Love pierces me, he dazzles and
he melts me
;

and your angelic singing and your words

with your sweet breath which I
cannot resist

compose the aura
before which my life flees.

I find no peace, and I am not at war,

I fear and hope, and burn and I am ice;

I fly above
the heavens, and lie on earth,

and I grasp nothing, and embrace the world.

One keeps me
jailed who neither locks nor opens,

nor keeps me for her own nor frees the noose;

Love
does not kill
, nor does he loose my chains;

he wants me
lifeless
but won’t loosen me.

I see with no eyes
, shout
without a tongue
;

I yearn to perish, and I beg for help;

I hate myself
and love somebody else.

I thrive on pain and laugh with all my tears;

I dislike death as much as I do life:

because of you, lady, I am this way.

Qual più divers a et nova

cosa fu mai in qualche stranio clima,

quella, se ben s’estima,

più mi rasembra: a tal son giunto, Amore.

Là onde il dì ven fore

vola un augel che sol, senza consorte,

di volontaria morte

rinasce et tutto a viver si rinova.

Così sol si ritrova

lo mio voler, et così in su la cima

de’ suoi alti pensieri al sol si volve,

et così si risolve,

et così torna al suo stato di prima;

arde et more et riprende i nervi suoi

et vive poi con la fenice a prova.

Una petra è sì ardita

la per l’indico mar, che da natura

tragge a sé il ferro e ’l fura

dal legno, in guisa che’ navigi affonde.

Questo prov’ io fra l’onde

d’amaro pianto che quel bello scoglio

à col suo duro argoglio

condutta ove affondar conven mia vita.

Così l’alm’ à sfornita

(furando ’l cor che fu già cosa dura

et me tenne un, ch’ or son diviso et sparso)

un sasso a trar più scarso

carne che ferro. O cruda mia ventura!

che ’n carne essendo veggio trarmi a riva

ad una viva dolce calamita.

Ne l’estremo occidente

una fera è soave et queta tanto

che nulla più, ma pianto

et doglia et morte dentro agli occhi porta;

molto convene accorta

esser qual vista mai ver lei si giri:

pur che gli occhi non miri,

l’altro puossi veder securamente.

The strangest and most
wondrous

thing ever seen in
any foreign land
,

if judged correctly, is

what I am like—I’ve reached that point now, Love.

There
where the day is born

there flies that bird unique, without a consort,

that voluntarily

dies to be born, renewing all its life.

Just so is my desire

unique, and just so at the summit

of its high thoughts it turns to face the sun,

and so it is consumed

and so returns to its original state;

it burns and dies and then renews its forces

and goes on living, vying with the phoenix.

There is
a stone so bold

out in the Indian Sea that naturally

attracts iron to itself

and
steals it from the wood
, and so ships sink.

I prove this
in the waves

of bitter weeping, for that lovely rock

with all of its hard pride

has driven me to where my
life must sink
.

Just so a stone more avid

to attract the flesh than iron has stripped my soul,

(stealing my heart which once was something hard,

keeping me whole who now

am so divided). Oh, how cruel my fortune

to see myself in flesh
drawn to the shore

by power of a sweet and living magnet!

In farthest Occident

there lives an animal more tame and gentle

than any other beast,

but tears and grief and death are in her eyes;

whoever
turns his sight

to look at her must do so
with great care
:

as long as he not look

her in the eyes,
all other parts are safe
.

Ma io incauto dolente

corro sempre al mio male, et so ben quanto

n’ò sofferto et n’aspetto; ma l’engordo

voler ch’ è cieco et sordo

sì mi trasporta che ’l bel viso santo

et gli occhi vaghi fien cagion ch’ io pera

di questa fera angelica innocente.

Surge nel mezzo giorno

una fontana, e tien nome dal sole,

che per natura sòle

bollir le notti e ’n sul giorno esser fredda;

et tanto si raffredda

quanto ’l sol monta et quanto è più da presso.

così aven a me stesso

che son fonte di lagrime et soggiorno:

quando ’l bel lume adorno

ch’ è ’l mio sol s’allontana, et triste et sole

son le mie luci et notte oscura è loro,

ardo allor; ma se l’oro

e i rai veggio apparir del vivo sole,

tutto dentro et di for sento cangiarme

et ghiaccio farme, così freddo torno.

Un’altra fonte à Epiro

di cui si scrive ch’ essendo fredda ella

ogni spenta facella

accende, et spegne qual trovasse accesa.

L’anima mia, ch’ offesa

ancor non era d’amoroso foco,

appressandosi un poco

a quella fredda ch’ io sempre sospiro,

arse tutta, et martiro

simil giamai né sol vide né stella,

ch’ un cor di marmo a pietà mosso avrebbe;

poi che ’nfiammata l’ebbe,

rispensela vertù gelata et bella.

Così più volte a ’l cor racceso et spento,

i ’l so che ’l sento et spesso me n’adiro.

Fuor tutt’ i nostri lidi

ne l’isole famose di Fortuna,

But I, wretched and rash,

run always to my harm, and well I know

I’ve suffered and expect to still; but greedy

passion that’s blind and deaf

transports me so that her fair, holy face

and charming eyes will bring about my death

by this
angelic beast of innocence
.

There springs up in the south

a fountain
that is named after the sun, and
by its nature
always

boils in the night and in the day is cold;

and it
grows cold depending

how the sun mounts and how it
grows more near
.

And so it is with me

who am the fount and dwelling place of tears,

for when that light of beauty

that is my sun, departs,

and sad and lonely

my eyes become
and night is dark for them
,

I burn then
; but when gold

and
rays from that live sun
appear to me

I feel myself changing inside and out

and turn to ice, so cold I have become.

Of another
fount in Epirus

it’s written that although it may be cold,

it can light up a torch

unlit and put out any that are burning.

My soul, that was not harmed

as yet by all the raging flames of love,

by merely coming close

to that cold one for whom I always sigh,

caught fire
, and suffering

like that no sun or star has ever seen—

it would have made a marble heart feel pity;

and once it was set burning,

then
virtue fair and frozen
put it out.

So often she’s unlit and lit my heart,

I know this for
I feel it
and grow angry.

Far out beyond
our shores

and on those famous islands are Fortune’s

due fonti à; chi de l’una

bee mor ridendo, et chi de l’altra, scampa.

Simil fortuna stampa

mia vita, ché morir poria ridendo

del gran piacer ch’ io prendo,

se nol temprassen dolorosi stridi.

Amor ch’ ancor mi guidi

pur a l’ombra di fama occulta et bruna,

tacerem questa fonte ch’ ogni or piena

ma con più larga vena

veggiam quando col Tauro il sol s’aduna:

così gli occhi miei piangon d’ogni tempo

ma più nel tempo che Madonna vidi.

Chi spiasse, canzone,

quel ch’ i’ fo, tu poi dir: “Sotto un gran sasso

in una chiusa valle ond’ esce Sorga

si sta; né chi lo scorga

v’è se no Amor, che mai nol lascia un passo,

et l’imagine d’una che lo strugge,

ch’ e’ per sé fugge tutt’ altre persone.”

Fiamma dal Ciel su le tue treccie piova,

malvagia, che dal fiume et da le ghiande

per l’altrui impoverir se’ ricca et grande,

poi che di mal oprar tanto ti giova,

nido di tradimenti in cui si cova

quanto mal per lo mondo oggi si spande,

de vin serva, di letti, et di vivande,

in cui lussuria fa l’ultima prova!

Per le camere tue fanciulle et vecchi

vanno trescando, et Belzebùb in mezzo

co’ mantici et col foco et co li specchi.

Già non fostù nudrita in piume al rezzo,

ma nuda al vento et scalza fra gli stecchi;

or vivi sì ch’ a Dio ne venga il lezzo.

two springs: who drinks from one

dies laughing
; from the other,
he revives
.

A similar fortune stamps

my life, for I could die from all the laughter

that comes from the great pleasure given me,

were it not tempered
by my anguished cries.

Love, you who guides me still

even to
shades of fame
hidden and dark,

we will not talk of this spring always full

but
fullest at the time

we see the sun with Taurus in conjunction.

And so my eyes shed tears continuously

but more the month that I first saw my lady.

Should someone want, my song,

to know, you tell them that “beneath
great stone

in a closed valley where the Sorgue springs forth

he is; and no one sees him

save Love, who never leaves him by a step,

and the image of
the one destroying him
.

And as for him,
he flees
all other people.”

May Heaven’s fire
pour down on your
tresses
,

since doing evil gives you so much pleasure,

impious one, who, after
streams and acorns
,

got fat and rich by starving other people
;