Petrarch (20 page)
Authors: Mark Musa
There is good reason that I sing sometimes,
since for so long a time I have been sighing
that I could never start too soon to make
my smiling
equal to my many woes
.
If I could only make
those holy eyes
receive delight
somehow
from
some sweet words
of mine,
how blessèd would I be
above all lovers
!
But more so if in truth I were to say:
“
A lady begs me
, so I wish to speak.”
My yearning thoughts,
that step by step have led
my reasoning to heights unreachable,
you see my lady’s heart is
hard as stone
,
and
on my own
I cannot enter it.
She does not deign to look down low enough
to care about our words;
it is not Heavens will,
and I am weary now from opposition,
and since my heart is
hard and bitter now
,
“
So in my speech I now wish to be harsh
.”
What am I saying?
Where am I? Who cheats
me more than I and my excessive wants?
My mind could run
the heavens sphere to sphere
and find no star condemning me to tears;
if mortal veil it is
that dulls my sight,
what fault is it of
stars
or any lovely thing?
Meco si sta chi dì et notte m’affanna,
poi che del suo piacer mi fe’ gir grave
“La dolce vista e ’l bel guardo soave.”
Tutte le cose di che ’l mondo è adorno
uscir buone de man del mastro eterno,
ma me che così a dentro non discerno
abbaglia il bel che mi si mostra intorno;
et s’ al vero splendor giamai ritorno
l’occhio non po star fermo,
cosi l’à fatto infermo
pur la sua propria colpa, et non quel giorno
ch’ i’ volsi in ver l’angelica beltade
“Nel dolce tempo de la prima etade.”
Perché la vita è breve
et l’ingegno paventa a l’alta impresa,
né di lui né di lei molto mi fido;
ma spero che sia intesa
là dov’ io bramo et là dove esser deve
la doglia mia, la qual tacendo i’ grido.
Occhi leggiadri dove Amor fa nido,
a voi rivolgo il mio debile stile
pigro da sé, ma ’l gran piacer lo sprona;
et chi di voi ragiona
tien dal soggetto un abito gentile
che con l’aie amorose
levando, il parte d’ogni pensier vile.
Con queste alzato vengo a dire or cose
ch’ ò portate nel cor gran tempo ascose.
Non perch’ io non m’aveggia
quanto mia laude è ’ngiuriosa a voi,
In me dwells one who night and day gives grief,
since she gave me the
burden of the pleasure
:
“
Her sweet presence, her soft and lovely glance
.”
All things adorning
our world with their beauty
came forth in goodness from the Master’s hand,
but I, who cannot see so deep in her,
am dazzled by the beauty on the outside;
should I ever again see the true light,
my eyes will not resist,
so weak have they become
by their own fault
and not by that day’s fault
when I turned
them to her angelic beauty
“In
the sweet season
of my early age.”
Because life is so short
and wit so fearful of so high a venture,
I have no confidence in either one;
there where I yearn it be, where it must be,
that pain of mine
which I cry out in silence.
O gracious eyes in which Love makes his nest,
to you I turn this style of mine so frail,
by nature lazy
, but by great pleasure spurred;
and he who speaks of you
acquires from the subject gracious habit
which, with the wings of love
lifting him, part him from all thought that’s vile;
raised by such wings
, I now shall say the things
my heart has carried
hidden for so long
.
Not that I do not see
how much my praise falls short
of honoring you,
ma contrastar non posso al gran desio
lo qual è ’n me da poi
ch’ i’ vidi quel che pensier non pareggia,
non che l’avagli altrui parlar o mio.
Principio del mio dolce stato rio,
altri che voi so ben che non m’intende:
quando agli ardenti rai neve divegno,
vostro gentile sdegno
forse ch’ allor mia indignitate offende.
O se questa temenza
non temprasse l’arsura che m’incende,
beato venir meno! ché ’n lor presenza
m’è più caro il morir che ’l viver senza.
Dunque ch’ i’ non mi sfaccia
si fraie oggetto a si possente foco,
non è proprio valor che me ne scampi;
ma la paura un poco,
che ’l sangue vago per le vene agghiaccia,
risalda ’l cor perché più tempo avampi.
O poggi, o valli, o fiumi, o selve, o campi,
o testimon de la mia grave vita,
quante volte m’udiste chiamar Morte!
Ahi dolorosa sorte,
lo star mi strugge e ’l fuggir non m’aita!
Ma se maggior paura
non m’affrenasse, via corta et spedita
trarrebbe a fin questa aspra pena et dura,
et la colpa è di tal che non à cura.
Dolor, perché mi meni
fuor di camin a dir quel ch’ i’ non voglio?
sostien ch’ io vada ove ’l piacer mi spigne.
Già di voi non mi doglio,
occhi sopra ’l mortal corso sereni,
né di lui ch’ a tal nodo mi distrigne.
Vedete ben quanti color depigne
Amor sovente in mezzo del mio volto,
et potrete pensar qual dentro fammi,
là ’ve di et notte stammi
a dosso col poder ch’ à in voi raccolto,
luci beate et liete
but I cannot resist the great desire
inside me since the time
that I saw
what no thought can hope to equal
,
let alone words, my own or any others.
Source of my sweet condition that is bitter
I know no one but you can understand:
when in your burning rays I turn to snow,
that kind disdain
of yours
perhaps then
my unworthiness offends
.
Oh, if such fear as this
were not to temper flame
that burns in me,
then, happy death!
for I would in their presence
rather die happily than live without them.
That I am not destroyed,
so frail an object to
so strong a fire
,
is not because of my own worth that saves me;
but fear
, that freezes blood
that runs through all my veins, strengthens the heart
a little so that it may burn for longer.
O hills
, O vales, O streams, O woods, O fields,
O witnesses of this my heavy life,
how many times you’ve heard me call on Death!
Ah fate so dolorous,
staying destroys me,
fleeing is no help
!
But if a greater fear
did not stop me,
a short and quicker way
would end this suffering, bitter and hard—
it is
the fault
of
one who does not care
.
Sorrow, why
lead me off
the path to say what I would rather not?
Let me go where my pleasure urges me.
For I do not complain
about you, eyes serene beyond man’s reach,
nor about him who binds me in this knot.
Take a good look at all the
colors Love
will often paint right there upon my face,
then you can guess what he does inside me,
where day and night he rules
me with the force that he’s gathered from you,
you holy lights
and happy—
se non che 1 veder voi stesse v’è tolto,
ma quante volte a me vi rivolgete
conoscete in altrui quel che voi siete.
S’ a voi fosse si nota
la divina incredibile bellezza
di ch’ io ragiono come a chi la mira,
misurata allegrezza
non avria ’l cor; però forse è remota
dal vigor natural che v’apre et gira.
Felice l’aima che per voi sospira,
lumi del ciel per li quali io ringrazio
la vita che per altro non m’è a grado.
Oimè, perché si rado
mi date quel dond’ io mai non mi sazio?
perché non più sovente
mirate qual Amor di me fa strazio,
et perché mi spogliate immantanente
del ben ch’ ad ora ad or l’anima sente?
Dico ch’ ad ora ad ora,
vostra mercede, i’ sento in mezzo l’aima
una dolcezza inusitata et nova
la qual ogni altra salma
di noiosi pensier disgombra allora,
si che di mille un sol vi si ritrova.
Quel tanto a me, non più, del viver giova;
et se questo mio ben durasse alquanto,
nullo stato aguagliarse al mio porrebbe.
Ma forse altrui farrebbe
invido et me superbo l’onor tanto;
però, lasso, convensi
che l’estremo del riso assaglia il pianto,
e ’nterrompendo quelli spirti accensi,
a me ritorni et di me stesso pensi.
L’amoroso pensero
ch’ alberga dentro in voi mi si discopre
tal che mi tra’ del cor ogni altra gioia;
onde parole et opre
escon di me sì fatte allor ch’ i’ spero
farmi immortal, perché la carne moia.
except that you cannot observe yourselves,
but every time you turn to look at me
you see in someone else what you are like.
Were you as well aware
of that beauty, divine, incredible
of which I speak, as is the one who sees it,
a measured happiness
your heart could not possess; perhaps, then, beauty
is separate from the natural face
that moves you.
Happy the soul who sighs because of you,
celestial lights for which I thank my life
which for no other reason I find pleasant.
Ah, why
do you so rarely
give me that
which I never have enough of?
Why don’t you look more often
at the destruction
Love is causing me?
Why do you strip me
without hesitation
of all the good my soul feels now and then?
I must say
that sometimes,
with thanks to you
, I feel within my soul
a sweetness that’s unusual and new
which every other burden
of painful thoughts it then
expels from there
,
so of a thousand
only one remains
.
This bit
of life and no more gives me pleasure;
and if this good of mine could last a while
no other life could ever equal it.
Perhaps it would make others
envious, and me proud from so much honor;
and so, alas, it’s fated
that laughter’s limits be assailed by tears,
and interrupting all those burning thoughts,
that
I return to me
, to think of me.
The amorous thought
that dwells
inside of you reveals itself to me
and draws out of my heart all other joys;
whereby such words and deeds
come out of me that I hope to become
immortal through them though the flesh may die.
Fugge al vostro apparire angoscia et noia,
et nel vostro partir tornano insieme;
ma perché la memoria innamorata
chiude lor poi l’entrata,
di là non vanno da le parti estreme.
Onde s’ alcun bel frutto
nasce di me, da voi vien prima il seme;
io per me son quasi un terreno asciutto
coito da voi, e ’l pregio è vostro in tutto.
Canzon, tu non m’acqueti, anzi m’infiammi
a dir di quel ch’ a me stesso m’invola;
però sia certa de non esser sola.
Gentil mia Donna, i’ veggio
nel mover de’ vostr’occhi un dolce lume
che mi mostra la via ch’ al ciel conduce;
et per lungo costume
dentro, là dove sol con Amor seggio,
quasi visibilmente il cor traluce.
Questa è la vista ch’ a ben far m’induce
et che mi scorge al glorioso fine;
questa sola dal vulgo m’allontana.
Né giamai lingua umana
contar poria quel che le due divine
luci sentir mi fanno
e quando ’l verno sparge le pruine,
et quando poi ringiovenisce l’anno
qual era al tempo del mio primo affanno.
Before your presence
, harm and anguish flee,
and when you leave the two of them return;
but since my memory, so much in love,
will not
allow them entrance
,
they get no further than
the surface parts
.
So if some lovely fruit
grows out of me,
from you first comes the seed
;
I see myself
an arid piece of land
that’s tilled by you—the
praise all goes to you
.
Song, you instead of calming
make me burn
to tell about what
steals me from myself
;
and
so be sure that you are not alone
.
when your eyes move
, the sweetness of a glow
that lights the way for me that leads to Heaven;
and there, as is its custom,
within, where I sit all alone with Love,
your heart shines through—
and I can almost see it
.
This is the sight that leads me to do well
and shows me how to reach the goal of glory,
and
this alone sets me apart
from others.