Petrarch (37 page)

le mie speranze e i mei dolci sospiri.

O Invidia nimica di vertute,

ch’ a’ bei principii volentier contrasti,

per qual sentier così tacita intrasti

in quel bel petto, et con qual arti il mute?

Da radice n’ài svelta mia salute:

troppo felice amante mi mostrasti

a quella che’ miei preghi umili et casti

gradì alcun tempo, or par ch’ odi’ et refute.

Né però che con atti acerbi et rei

del mio ben pianga e del mio pianger rida

poria cangiar sol un de’ pensier mei,

non perché mille volte il dì m’ancida

fia ch’ io non l’ami et ch’ i’ non speri in lei;

ché s’ ella mi spaventa, Amor m’affida.

Love’s given me to
hard and lovely arms

that kill unjustly, and if I complain,

my suffering he doubles
; so it is better

I die in love and silence as I’m wont;

her eyes could
burn the Rhine
when it’s most frozen

and
break its
every hard and icy ridge;

so equal
is her pride to all her beauty

that
pleasing others
seems to displease her.

There is no way that I can chip a part

of her heart’s lovely diamond that’s so hard—

the rest of her that moves and breathes
is marble
;

neither can she, for all of her disdain,

for all of her
dark glances
, ever take

away from me my hopes and
my sweet sighs
.

O Envy
, you the enemy of virtue,

who gladly fights
against all good beginnings
,

what path led you so silently to enter

that lovely breast; with what art do you change it?

You’ve
pulled out my salvation
by its roots!

You showed me as
too fortunate
a lover

to her who liked
my pure and humble prayers

a while, and now appears to hate and spurn them.

And though with gestures hard and cruel she
weeps

at my own good and at my weeping laughs,

she cannot change a single thought of mine;

though she
kill me a thousand times
a day,

I’ll love her still and always hope in her;

Love reassures me
, though she frightens me.

Mirando ’l sol de’ begli occhi sereno

ov’ è chi spesso i miei depinge et bagna,

dal cor l’anima stanca si scompagna

per gir nel paradiso suo terreno;

poi trovandol di dolce et d’amar pieno,

quant’ al mondo si tesse opra d’aragna

vede, onde seco et con Amor si lagna,

ch’ à sì caldi gli spron, sì duro ’l freno.

Per questi estremi duo contrari et misti,

or con voglie gelate, or con accese,

stassi così fra misera et felice;

ma pochi lieti et molti penser tristi,

e ’l più si pente de l’ardite imprese,

tal frutto nasce di cotal radice.

Fera Stella (se ’l cielo à forza in noi

quant’ alcun crede) fu sotto ch’ io nacqui,

et fera cuna dove nato giacqui,

et fera terra ov ’e’ pie’ mossi poi,

et fera donna che con gli occhi suoi

et con l’arco a cui sol per segno piacqui

fe’ la piaga onde, Amor, teco non tacqui,

ché con quell’arme risaldar la poi.

Ma tu prendi a diletto i dolor miei;

ella non già, perché non son più duri,

e ’l colpo è di saetta et non di spiedo.

Pur mi consola che languir per lei

meglio è che gioir d’altra, et tu mel giuri

per l’orato tuo strale, et io tel credo.

While gazing at the clear sun of fair eyes

where dwells the one
who wets and colors mine,

my weary soul
detaches from my heart

and travels to its
earthly paradise
;

then finding it all full of bitter sweetness,

it sees that everything the world has spun

is spiderwebs
, and it complains to Love,

whose
spurs
are very hot, whose bit so hard.

Between these two extremes
mixed and contrasting
,

now with desire frozen, now aflame,

there it remains
, half miserable half happy;

it has few joyful thoughts and many sad ones,

and mostly it
repents for its bold action
;

from such a root
as this such fruit is born.

Cruel was the star beneath which I was born

(if the heavens have such power as some think),

and
cruel the cradle
where I lay new born,

and
cruel the ground
on which I later stepped,

and
cruel the lady
who would with her eyes

and bow (she liked me only as a target)

inflict that wound I’ve mentioned to you, Love,

for with
those very weapons
you can heal it.

But you take great delight in all my pain;

not that she does, for
it’s not harsh enough
;

the blow comes from an
arrow not a spear
.

Yet
I’m consoled
: better to languish for her

than to enjoy another—this you swear

to me by
your gold shaft
, and I believe you.

Quando mi vene inanzi il tempo e ’l loco

ov’ i’ perdei me stesso, e ’l caro nodo

ond’ Amor di sua man m’avinse in modo

che l’amar mi fe’ dolce e ’l pianger gioco,

solfo et esca son tutto, e ’l cor un foco

da quei soavi spirti i quai sempre odo

acceso dentro sì ch’ ardendo godo,

et di ciò vivo et d’altro mi cal poco.

Quel sol che solo agli occhi mei resplende

coi vaghi raggi ancor indi mi scalda

a vespro tal qual era oggi per tempo;

et così di lontan m’alluma e ’ncende

che la memoria ad ogni or fresca et salda

pur quel nodo mi mostra e ’l loco e ’l tempo.

Per mezz’ i boschi inospiti et selvaggi

onde vanno a gran rischio uomini et arme,

vo securo io, ché non po spaventarme

altri che ’l sol ch’ à d’Amor vivo i raggi.

E vo cantando (o penser miei non saggi!)

lei che ’l ciel non poria lontana farme,

ch’ i’ l’ ò negli occhi, et veder seco parme

donne et donzelle, et sono abeti et faggi.

Parmi d’udirla, udendo i rami et l’ore

et le frondi, et gli augei lagnarsi, et l’acque

mormorando fuggir per l’erba verde.

Raro un silenzio, un solitario orrore

d’ombrosa selva mai tanto mi piacque,

se non che dal mio sol troppo si perde.

When there
comes to my mind
the time and place

I lost myself, and
that dear knot
which Love

by his own hand bound me in such a way

that bitter he made sweet and
weeping, pleasure
,

I’m all
sulphur and tinder
, my heart a fire

lit by her gentle words I always hear,

burning within,
enjoying that I burn
—

on this I live
and care for little else.

That sun which sheds its light for my eyes only

with all her loving rays
still warms me
now

at evening as she did in early day;

she from afar
so brightens and ignites me

that memory forever fresh and whole

keeps showing me
that knot
, that place, that time.

Across those savage and unfriendly woods,

where even armed men travel at great risk,

safely I move
, for nothing frightens me

except that sun
which has Love’s living rays.

I move and sing
(
O unwise thoughts
of mine!)

of her the heavens cannot keep me from;

she’s in my eyes
; with her I seem to see

ladies and maidens that are
firs and beeches
.

I seem to hear her, hearing branch and breeze

and leaves and birds lamenting, and
the murmur

of water that is fleeing through green grass.

Rarely has silence or the
lonely chill

of shady forest ever pleased me more—

though
too much of my sun is lost
therein.

Mille piagge in un giorno et mille rivi

mostrato m’à per la famosa Ardenna

Amor, ch’ a’ suoi le piante e i cori impenna

per fargli al terzo ciel volando ir vivi.

Dolce m’è sol, senz’ arme esser stato ivi

dove armato fier Marte et non acenna,

quasi senza governo et senza antenna

legno in mar, pien di penser gravi et schivi.

Pur giunto al fin de la giornata oscura,

rimembrando ond’ io vegno et con quai piume,

sento di troppo ardir nascer paura;

ma ’l bel paese e ’l dilettoso fiume

con serena accoglienza rassecura

il cor già vòlto ov’ abita il suo lume.

Amor mi sprona in un tempo et affrena,

assecura et spaventa, arde et agghiaccia,

gradisce et sdegna, a sé mi chiama et scaccia,

or mi tene in speranza et or in pena,

or alto or basso il meo cor lasso mena;

onde ’l vago desir perde la traccia

e ’l suo sommo piacer par che li spiaccia,

d’error sì novo la mia mente è piena.

Un amico penser le mostra il vado

(non d’acqua che per gli occhi si resolva)

da gir tosto ove spera esser contenta;

poi quasi maggior forza indi la svolva,

conven ch’ altra via segua et mal suo grado

a la sua lunga et mia morte consenta.

A thousand slopes
and rivers Love has shown me

throughout the
famous Ardennes
in one day,

for
he wings
hearts and feet of his devoted

to make them fly alive to the third heaven.

I found it sweet to be there all alone

unarmed
, where armed Mars strikes without a warning;

a ship at sea
without a mast and tiller

I was, and full of heavy,
secret thoughts
.

Still, having reached the
end of the dark day

recalling where I’d been and with what wings,

I feel the fear born from excessive daring;

but the
fair country
and
delightful river

with the brightness of their welcome reassure

my heart already turned to its light’s home.

Love spurs
and holds me back at the same time,

frightens and reassures, freezes and burns,

is kind and rude; he calls me, throws me out;

with hope he holds me now and then with grief,

now high now low
he leads my weary heart;

so wavering desire loses track

and
seems displeased
by its own highest pleasure—

my mind is full of such strange opposition.

A thought that’s friendly
shows the mind the way

(not one of water pouring from the eyes)

to quickly go where it
has hopes of joy
;

but then, as if swayed by some
greater force
,

it’s forced to go another way, and against

its will consent to
its long death and mine
.

Geri, quando talor meco s’adira

la mia dolce nemica ch’ è sì altera,

un conforto m’è dato ch’ i’ non pera,

solo per cui vertù l’alma respira:

ovunque ella sdegnando li occhi gira,

che di luce privar mia vita spera,

le mostro i miei pien d’umiltà sì vera

ch’ a forza ogni suo sdegno indietro tira.

E ciò non fusse, andrei non altramente

a veder lei che ’l volto di Medusa,

che facea marmo diventar la gente.

Così dunque fa’ tu; ch’ i’ veggio esclusa

ogni altra aita, e ’l fuggir val niente

dinanzi a l’ali che ’l signor nostro usa.

Po, ben puo’ tu portartene la scorza

di me con tue possenti et rapide onde,

ma lo spirto ch’ iv’ entro si nasconde

non cura né di tua né d’altrui forza;

lo qual, senz’ alternar poggia con orza,

dritto per l’aure, al suo desir seconde

battendo l’ali, verso l’aurea fronde

l’acqua e ’l vento e la vela e i remi sforza.

Re degli altri, superbo altero flume

che ’ncontri ’l sol quando e’ ne mena ’l giorno

e ’n ponente abandoni un più bel lume:

tu te ne vai col mio mortal sul corno;

l’altro, coverto d’amorose piume,

torna volando al suo dolce soggiorno.

Geri, at times when
my sweet enemy

who is so proud becomes upset with me,

there is one comfort keeping me from death—

the only strength that gives breath to my soul:

wherever
she in anger turns her eyes

with hopes of cutting short my life of light,

I show her mine
full of humility
,

and she is forced to draw back her disdain.

Were this not so
, my going to behold her

would be like
looking at Medusa’s face
,

which turned a person’s body into stone.

You do the same
; I see all other help

excluded, and
to run away is useless

against
the kind of wings
that our Lord has.

Po, you may
well transport
my outer shell

with you upon your strong and
rapid waves
,