Petrarch (35 page)

Ite, caldi sospiri, al freddo core,

rompete il ghiaccio che pietà contende;

et se prego mortale al ciel s’intende

morte o mercé sia fine al mio dolore.

Ite, dolci penser, parlando fore

di quello ove ’l bel guardo non s’estende;

se pur sua asprezza o mia stella n’offende,

sarem fuor di speranza et fuor d’errore.

Dir se po ben per voi, non forse a pieno,

che ’l nostro stato è inquieto et fosco,

si come ’l suo pacifico et sereno.

Gite securi omai, ch’ Amor ven vosco;

et ria fortuna po ben venir meno,

s’ ai segni del mio sol l’aere conosco.

Le stelle, il cielo, et gli elementi a prova

tutte lor arti et ogni estrema cura

poser nel vivo lume in cui Natura

si specchia e ’l sol, ch’ altrove par non trova.

L’opra è sì altera, sì leggiadra et nova,

che mortal guardo in lei non s’assecura,

tanta negli occhi bei for di misura

par ch’ Amore et dolcezza et grazia piova.

L’aere percosso da’ lor dolci rai

s’infiamma d’onestate, et tal diventa

che ’l dir nostro e ’l penser vince d’assai;

basso desir non è ch’ ivi si senta,

ma d’onor, di vertute. Or quando mai

fu per somma beltà vil voglia spenta?

Go now, my
sighs of warmth, to her cold heart

and break the ice which fights against
her pity
,

and if a mortal’s prayer be heard in Heaven,

let death or mercy end my suffering.

Go now, sweet thoughts of mine, and clearly speak

about that which
her fair gaze cannot reach
;

if still
her harshness strikes us, or my star
,

then we’ll be out of hope and out of error.

You can explain, although
perhaps not fully
,

how our state is as
dark and as unquiet

as hers is full of
peace and clarity
.

Now go in safety, for
Love comes with you
;

and our bad fortune could come to an end

to judge the weather by
my own sun’s signs
.

The star
s, the heavens, the elements in contest

put all their art, put all the utmost care

into that living light
which Nature mirrors

and sun which finds
its equal
nowhere else.

This feat is so sublime, so new and charming,

that mortal sight
cannot feel safe
with it;

it seems that Love within her lovely eyes

is
raining grace
and sweetness beyond measure.

The air that’s struck
by those sweet rays of hers

burns with her chastity, becoming such

that
our own thought
and words it far surpasses;

no base desire
can be felt therein,

only virtue and honor.
Now when
and ever

was vile desire quenched by highest beauty?

Non fur ma’ Giove et Cesare sì mossi

(a folminar colui, questo a ferire)

che pietà non avesse spente l’ire

e lor de l’usate arme ambeduo scossi:

piangea Madonna, e ’l mio signor ch’ i’ fossi

volse a vederla et suoi lamenti a udire,

per colmarmi di doglia et di desire

et ricercarmi le medolle et gli ossi.

Quel dolce pianto mi depinse Amore,

anzi scolpio, et que’ detti soavi

mi scrisse entro un diamante in mezzo ’l core,

ove con salde ed ingegnose chiavi

ancor torna sovente a trarne fore

lagrime rare et sospir lunghi et gravi.

I’ vidi in terra angelici costumi

et celesti bellezze al mondo sole,

tal che di rimembrar mi giova et dole

ché quant’ io miro par sogni, ombre, et fumi.

Et vidi lagrimar que’ duo bei lumi

ch’ àn fatto mille volte invidia al sole,

et udi’ sospirando dir parole

che farian gire i monti et stare i fiumi.

Amor, senno, valor, pietate, et doglia

facean piangendo un più dolce concento

d’ogni altro che nel mondo udir si soglia;

ed era il cielo a l’armonia sì intento

che non se vedea in ramo mover foglia,

tanta dolcezza avea pien l’aere e ’l vento.

Both Jove and Caesar never were so moved,

the one
to wound, the other one to thunder,

that pity would not put their anger out

and shake them both from their accustomed arms:

my lady wept
and
my lord wanted me

to see her there and listen to
her sorrow
,

to fill me full of grief and with desire

to move me to the
marrow of my bones
.

Love painted that sweet flow of tears for me,

he sculpted them, and all those gracious words

he wrote in diamond deep inside my heart,

where with his powerful and
skillful keys

he still returns and often he
draws forth

the
precious tears
, the long and heavy sighs.

I saw on earth angelic qualities

and heavenly beauties
unique
in the world,

and to recall them
pains and pleases
me,

for all I see seems
shadow, smoke, and dreams
.

And I saw those two lovely
lights in tears

both envied by the sun a thousand times,

and I heard words pronounced amid deep sighing

that would make
mountains move
and rivers stop.

Love, wisdom and worth, pity and sorrow

made out of tears a sweeter symphony

than any other heard throughout the world;

the heavens were so entranced by harmony

that not a leaf upon its branch
dared move
,

so full of sweetness was the air and wind.

Quel sempre acerbo et onorato giorno

mandò sì al cor l’imagine sua viva

che ’ngegno o stil non fia mai che ’l descriva;

ma spesso a lui co la memoria torno.

L’atto d’ogni gentil pietate adorno

e ’l dolce amaro lamentar ch’ i’ udiva

facean dubbiar se mortal donna o diva

fosse che ’l ciel rasserenava intorno.

La testa or fino, et calda neve il volto,

ebeno i cigli, et gli occhi eran due stelle

onde Amor l’arco non tendeva in fallo;

perle et rose vermiglie ove l’accolto

dolor formava ardenti voci et belle,

fiamma i sospir, le lagrime cristallo.

Ove ch’ i’ posi gli occhi lassi o giri

per quetar la vaghezza che gli spinge,

trovo chi bella donna ivi depinge,

per far sempre mai verdi i miei desiri.

Con leggiadro dolor par ch’ ella spiri

alta pietà che gentil core siringe;

oltra la vista, agli orecchi orna e ’nfinge

sue voci vive et suoi santi sospiri.

Amor e ’l ver fur meco a dir che quelle

ch’ i’ vidi eran bellezze al mondo sole,

mai non vedute più sotto le stelle;

né sì pietose et sì dolci parole

s’udiron mai, né lagrime si belle

di sì belli occhi uscir mai vide ’l sole.

That day forever more
so cruel
and honored

sent to my heart its image so alive

there is
no wit or style
that can describe it;

but often I recall it with my mind.

Her attitude
, adorned with gracious pity,

the bittersweet lamenting that I heard,

caused me to wonder were she mortal woman

or goddess, for she cleared the sky around her.

Her head fine gold
, her face was like warm snow,

her
eyebrows ebony
, her eyes two stars

from where Love never bent his bow in vain;

pearls and red roses
where
the gathered grief

was transformed into ardent, lovely words,

her sighs a flame
, her tears as though of
crystal
.

Any place I
rest or turn
my weary eyes

to quiet the desire that impels them,

I find there one
who draws the lovely lady

to keep desire in me always green.

With gentle sorrow she seems to inspire

profound pity that wrings a noble heart;

and
more than sight
my ears
seem to imagine

her living voice
and all her
holy sighs
.

Love and the truth
were on my side to say

these beauties seen were unique in the world

and never seen again beneath the stars;

nor words so sweet and so compassionate

were ever heard, nor tears so lovely seen

under the sun pour from such lovely eyes.

In qual parte del Ciel, in quale Idea

era l’esempio onde Natura tolse

quel bel viso leggiadro in ch’ ella volse

mostrar qua giù quanto lassù potea?

Qual ninfa in fonti, in selve mai qual dea

chiome d’oro sì fino a l’aura sciolse?

quando un cor tante in sé vertuti accolse?

ben che la somma è di mia morte rea.

Per divina bellezza indarno mira

chi gli occhi de costei giamai non vide,

come soavemente ella gli gira;

non sa come Amor sana et come ancide,

chi non sa come dolce ella sospira

et come dolce parla et dolce ride.

Amor et io, sì pien di meraviglia

come chi mai cosa incredibil vide,

miriam costei quand’ ella parla o ride

che sol se stessa et nulla altra simiglia.

Dal bel seren de le tranquille ciglia

sfavillan sì le mie due stelle fide

ch’ altro lume non è ch’ infiammi et guide

chi d’amar altamente si consiglia.

Qual miracolo è quel, quando tra l’erba

quasi un fior siede, o ver quand’ ella preme

col suo candido seno un verde cespo!

Qual dolcezza è ne la stagione acerba

vederla ir sola coi pensier suoi inseme,

tessendo un cerchio a l’oro terso et crespo!

From what part of the heavens,
from what Idea

did Nature
take the model
to derive

that lovely charming face by which she chose

to show down here
her power up above
?

What fountain nymph
, what woodland goddess ever

let such fine hair of gold flow in the breeze?

How did a heart
collect so many virtues

the sum of which is guilty of my death?

Who seeks
for divine beauty seeks in vain

if he has not yet looked upon those eyes

and seen how tenderly she makes them move;

he does not know how love can heal and kill

who does not know
the sweetness
of her sighs,

the sweetness of her speech, how sweet her smile.

Love and myself as
full of wonderment

as one who sees the unbelievable,

marvel to see her speak or laugh, the one

who stands alone resembling no other.

From the
fair heaven
of her
tranquil brows

those dual lights
I trust in
sparkle so

that
no light’s left
to guide and to inflame

whoever hopes to follow noble love.

What miracle when she upon the grass

sits like a flower or when
her white breast

presses against the greenness of a bush!

What sweetness when in the
unripened season

you see her walking with her thoughts alone,

weaving a wreath
for her bright curly gold.

O passi sparsi, o pensier vaghi et pronti,

o tenace memoria, o fero ardore,

o possente desire, o debil core,

oi occhi miei (occhi non già, ma fonti);

o fronde, onor de le famose fronti,

o sola insegna al gemino valore;

o faticosa vita, o dolce errore,

che mi fate ir cercando piagge et monti;

o bel viso, ove Amor inseme pose

gli sproni e ’l fren ond’ el mi punge et volve

come a lui piace, e calcitrar non vale;

o anime gentili et amorose,

s’ alcuna à ’l mondo, et voi, nude ombre et polve:

deh, ristate a veder quale è ’l mio male!

Lieti fiori et felici, et ben nate erbe

che Madonna pensando premer sòle,

piaggia ch’ ascolti sue dolci parole

et del bel piede alcun vestigio serbe,

schietti arboscelli et verdi frondi acerbe,

amorosette et pallide viole,

ombrose selve ove percote il sole

che vi fa co’ suoi raggi alte et superbe,

o soave contrada, o puro fiume

che bagni il suo bel viso et gli occhi chiari

et prendi qualità dal vivo lume:

quanto v’invidio gli atti onesti et cari!

Non fia in voi scoglio omai che per costume

d’arder co la mia fiamma non impari.

O useless steps
, O thoughts charming and quick,

O binding memory
, O burning love,

O powerful desire, O failing heart,

O my eyes
(eyes no more, but fountains),

O leafy bough
, honor of famous brows,

O single symbol for those
dual values
,

O weary life of mine, O my sweet error

which forces me to search the
shore
s and hills,

O lovely face where Love has put together

both spurs and rein
with which he pricks and turns me