Petrarch (33 page)

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Authors: Mark Musa

BOOK: Petrarch
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you nest of treachery in which is hatched

all evil
that today spreads through the world,

you
slave of wine
, of bedrooms, and of food,

high testing ground for every kind of lust!

In all your rooms
young girls and
older men

are
romping round
, the devil in the middle

with
bellows
and his fire and his mirrors.

You were not
raised on cushions
in cool shade

but
naked
to the wind, barefoot in thorns.

May God smell all the stink from how you live!

137

L’avara Babilonia à colmo il sacco

d’ira di Dio, e di vizii empi et rei,

tanto che scoppia, ed à fatti suoi dei

non Giove et Palla, ma Venere et Bacco.

Aspettando ragion mi struggo et fiacco;

ma pur novo soldan veggio per lei,

lo qual farà (non già quand’ io vorrei)

sol una sede, et quella fia in Baldacco.

Gl’idoli suoi sarranno in terra sparsi

et le torre superbe al ciel nemiche,

e i suoi torrer di for come dentro arsi.

Anime belle et di virtute amiche

terranno il mondo, et poi vedrem lui farsi

aureo tutto et pien de l’opre antiche.

138

Fontana di dolore, albergo d’ira,

scola d’errori et templo d’eresia,

già Roma or Babilonia falsa et ria,

per cui tanto si piange et si sospira,

o fucina d’inganni, o pregion dira

ove ’l ben more e ’l mal si nutre et cria,

di vivi inferno: un gran miracol fia

se Cristo teco alfine non s’adira.

Fondata in casta et umil povertate,

contra’ tuoi fondatori alzi le corna,

putta sfacciata! Et dove ài posto spene?

Negli adulteri tuoi, ne le mal nate

ricchezze tante? Or Constantin non torna.

Ma tolga il mondo tristo che ’l sostene!

137

The greed of Babylon has
so filled the sack

with God’s own wrath, with wicked, evil vices,

that it’s about to burst; she’s made her gods

Venus and Bacchus
instead of Jove and Pallas
.

I’m tired and distressed waiting for justice;

but I see
a new sultan coming for her

who will make it (it can’t be soon enough)

into one seat
, and that will be in
Baghdad
.

Her idols shall be scattered
on the ground

and her proud
towers, enemies of Heaven
,

her tower dwellers burned inside and out.

Beautiful souls
who are the friends of virtue

will rule the world, and then we’ll see it all

turn golden and fill up with ancient worth.

138

Fountain
of sorrow, dwelling place of wrath,

the school of errors,
heresy’s own temple

once Rome
, now false and wicked Babylon,

the cause for sighing and for so much weeping,

O
foundry of deceit
, O horrible prison

where the good dies
and bad is born and nourished,

a living hell; more than a miracle

if Christ does not at last show you his anger.

Founded in pure
and humble poverty,

against your
founders
you raise up your horns,

you
brazen whore!
Where have you placed your hope?

In your adulterers? in your ill-gotten

riches so great?
Constantine
cannot come back,

for Hell has taken
him,
and there he stays
.

139

Quanto più disiose l’ali spando

verso di voi, o dolce schiera arnica,

tanto fortuna con più visco intrica

il mio volare et gir mi face errando.

Il cor che mal suo grado a torno mando

è con voi sempre in quella valle aprica

ove ’l mar nostro più la terra implica;

l’altr’ ier da lui partimmi lagrimando.

I’ da man manca, e’ tenne il camin dritto;

i’ tratto a forza, et e’ d’Amore scorto,

egli in Jerusalèm, et io in Egitto.

Ma sofferenza è nel dolor conforto;

ché per lungo uso già fra noi prescritto

il nostro esser insieme è raro et corto.

140

Amor, che nel penser mio vive et regna

e ’l suo seggio maggior nel mio cor tene,

talor armato ne la fronte vene;

ivi si loca et ivi pon sua insegna.

Quella ch’ amare et sofferir ne ’nsegna

e vol che ’l gran desio, l’accesa spene

ragion, vergogna, et reverenza affrene,

di nostro ardir fra se stessa si sdegna.

Onde Amor paventoso fugge al core,

lasciando ogni sua impresa, et piange et trema;

ivi s’asconde et non appar più fore.

Che poss’ io far, temendo il mio signore,

se non star seco infin a l’ora estrema?

Ché bel fin fa chi ben amando more.

139

The more I spread my wings
wide with desire

in your direction,
O sweet flock
of friends,

the more does
Fortune with her birdlime
snare

my flight and make me wander
far from you
.

Against her will the heart I send in search

is always with you
in that open valley
,

the place where sea
most wraps around
our land;

I left him there in tears the other day.

I took
the left
,
he went by the straight path
;

I drawn by Fortune, and he led by Love;

he to Jerusalem and I
to Egypt.

But patience is a comfort in my grief;

for it has been established through long usage

that
our togetherness is rare
and short.

140

Love, who lives and reigns within my thought

and holds the highest seat inside my heart

at times
appears all armed
upon my face,

and there he camps, and there he
sets his banner
.

The one who teaches us patience and love

and wants my great desire, my burning hope

to be controlled by reason, shame and reverence,

is angry at our boldness

more than she shows
.

And so
Love full of fear
flees to my heart,

abandoning his plans, and weeps and trembles;

and there he hides and never comes outside.

What can I do
, if my own lord is frightened

except
stay with him
till the final hour?

Who loves well dying
comes to a good end.

141

Come talora al caldo tempo sòle

semplicetta farfalla al lume avezza

volar negli occhi altrui per sua vaghezza,

onde aven ch’ ella more, altri si dole:

così sempre io corro al fatal mio sole

de gli occhi onde mi ven tanta dolcezza,

che ’l fren de la ragion Amor non prezza,

e chi discerne è vinto da chi vole.

E veggio ben quant’ elli a schivo m’ànno

e so ch’ i’ ne morrò veracemente,

ché mia vertù non po contra l’affanno;

ma sì m’abbaglia Amor soavemente

ch’ i’ piango l’altrui noia et no ’l mio danno,

et cieca al suo morir l’alma consente.

142

A la dolce ombra de le belle frondi

corsi fuggendo un dispietato lume

che ’n fin qua giù m’ardea dal terzo cielo;

et disgombrava già di neve i poggi

l’aura amorosa che rinova il tempo,

et fiorian per le piagge l’erbe e i rami.

Non vide il mondo sì leggiadri rami

né mosse il vento mai sì verdi frondi

come a me si mostrar quel primo tempo,

tal che temendo de l’ardente lume

non volsi al mio refugio ombra di poggi,

ma de la pianta più gradita in cielo.

Un lauro mi difese allor dal cielo,

onde più volte, vago de’ bei rami,

da po’ son gito per selve et per poggi;

né giamai ritrovai tronco né frondi

141

As sometimes when the sun shines bright

a
foolish butterfly
,
seeking the light

in its desire, flies into
someone’s eyes

and kills itself and
makes the other cry
:

I, too, am always racing toward the fatal

light of her eyes that show me
so much sweetness

it makes Love careless with the reins of reason,

and
who discerns
is vanquished by desire.

And I can see how much her eyes disdain me,

and I am certain
I will die from it

my strength cannot hold out against
such pain
;

but so mellifluously
Love dazzles me

that I
mourn for her wrong
, not my own pain,

and
my soul, blind
, consents to its own death.

142

To the sweet shade of all those lovely leaves

I ran in flight from that
merciless light

that down upon me burned from the third Heaven;

the
snow by then
was melting in the hills

from the
loving aura
that renews the season,

and in the meadows bloomed the
grass and branches
.

The world has never seen such graceful branches

nor ever has
the wind moved greener leaves

as showed themselves to me in that first season,

so that while fearful of the burning light

I did not choose for refuge
shade of hills

but rather of the
tree most loved
in Heaven.

A laurel then protected me
from Heaven
,

where many times in love with its fair branches

I’ve gone since then through
woods
, across the hills;

and never have I found a
trunk or branches

tanto onorate dal superno lume

che non mutasser qualitate a tempo.

Però più fermo ogni or di tempo in tempo,

seguendo ove chiamar m’udia dal cielo

e scorto d’un soave et chiaro lume,

tornai sempre devoto ai primi rami

et quando a terra son sparte le frondi

et quando il sol fa verdeggiare i poggi.

Selve, sassi, campagne, fiumi, et poggi,

quanto è creato, vince et cangia il tempo;

ond’ io cheggio perdono a queste frondi

se rivolgendo poi molt’anni il cielo

fuggir disposi gl’invescati rami

tosto ch’ i’ ’ncominciai di veder lume.

Tanto mi piacque prima il dolce lume

ch’ i’ passai con diletto assai gran poggi

per poter appressar gli amati rami;

ora la vita breve e ’l loco e ’l tempo

mostranmi altro sentier di gire al cielo

et di far frutto, non pur fior et frondi.

Altr’amor, altre frondi, et altro lume,

altro salir al ciel per altri poggi

cerco (che n’è ben tempo), et altri rami.

that was so honored by
supernal light

they did not
change their worth
with change of season.

So
firmer all the more
, season to season,

and following
the call I heard from Heaven

and guided by a graceful and clear light,

devoted I return to the first branches

when here on earth are scattered all the leaves

and when the sun turns into green the hills.

The woods, the rocks, the fields, rivers and hills,

and all things made are
won and changed
by season;

and so
I beg the pardon
of these leaves

if after many years and turns of heaven

I decided to escape
the sticky branches

as soon as I began to
see the light
.

At first I found so pleasing the sweet light

that happily I crossed
the greatest hills

in order to be close to those loved branches;

and now short life as well as
place and season

show me
another path
that leads to Heaven

and to bear fruit, not merely blooms and leaves.

Another love and other leaves and light,

another climb to Heaven
by other hills

I seek (the season’s right) and
other branches
.

143

Quando io v’odo parlar sì dolcemente

com’ Amor proprio a’ suoi seguaci instilla,

l’acceso mio desir tutto sfavilla

tal ch’ enfiammar devria l’anime spente;

trovo la bella donna allor presente

ovunque mi fu mai dolce o tranquilla,

ne l’abito ch’ al suon non d’altra squilla

ma di sospir mi fa destar sovente.

Le chiome a l’aura sparse et lei conversa

indietro veggio, et così bella riede

nel cor come colei che tien la chiave;

ma ’l soverchio piacer, che s’atraversa

a la mia lingua, qual dentro ella siede

di mostrarla in palese ardir non àve.

144

Né cosi bello il sol giamai levarsi

quando ’l ciel fosse più de nebbia scarco,

né dopo pioggia vidi ’l celeste arco

per l’aere in color tanti variarsi,

in quanti fiammeggiando trasformarsi

nel dì ch’ io presi l’amoroso incarco

quel viso al quale (et son nel mio dir parco)

nulla cosa mortal pote aguagliarsi.

I’ vidi Amor che’ begli occhi volgea

soave sì ch’ ogni altra vista oscura

da indi in qua m’incominciò apparere,

Sennuccio, i’ ’l vidi et l’arco che tendea,

tal che mia vita poi non fu secura

et è sì vaga ancor del rivedere.

143

When I hear
you speak words of so much sweetness

as Love himself
inspires in his flock
,

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