Sayfadaki görseller
PDF
ePub
[ocr errors]

EYOND the sphere enfolding all the spheres

Passeth the sigh that in my heart doth rise,
And a new wisdom learns from Love in tears,
By which he may attain unto the skies.
When he hath reached the bourn of his desire
Of lady throned in glory he hath sight,
To whom his pilgrim spirit doth aspire,
She shineth with so wonderful a light;

On seeing her thus and telling it to me,
His accents are too subtle to bear sense
Unto the sorrowful heart that yearns to hear ;
Yet often of my gentle one doth he
Hold converse, often naming Beatrice, whence
I understand full well, O ladies dear!

T

life appear

CINO DA PISTOIA, 1270–1336

HE loveliness, the glances soft and clear

Of sweetest eyes that e'er unveiled their glow,
Lost unto me, make this my
So grievous that in heaviness I go ;
Instead of the gay thoughts I used to know,
Because of love for her,
Now at my heart's core stir
Thoughts that of Death are born
By reason of this parting whence I mourn.

In the beginning, Love, alas, alas,
Why didst not wound me so that I might die ?
Why didst not part from me, O Love, alas,
The tortured spirit whereon I rely ?
In this my sorrow unconsoled am I:
Indeed, the more I yearn
The more regret doth burn,

trovandomi partuto
da quei begli occhi ov' io t'ho già veduto.

Io ho veduto in quei begli occhi, Amore, tal che la rimembranza me n'ancide e fa sì grande schiera di dolore dentro la mente, che l'anima stride sol perchè morte mai non la divide da me, come diviso mi trovo dal bel viso e d'ogni stato allegro, pe 'l gran contrario ch'è tra 'l bianco e 'l negro.

Quando per gentil atto di salute vér bella donna levo gli occhi alquanto, si tutta si disvia la mia vertute, che dentro ritener non posso 'l pianto, membrando di Madonna, a cui son tanto lontan di veder lei. O dolenti occhi miei, non morite di doglia ? Si, per vostro voler, pur che Amor voglia.

Amor, la mia ventura è troppo cruda, e ciò che 'ncontran gli occhi più m'attrista : dunque, mercè ! che la tua man li chiuda, da c'ho perduto l' amorosa vista ; e quando vita per morte s' acquista, gli è gioioso il morire : tu sai dove de' gire lo spirto mio da poi, e sai quanta pietà sarà di noi.

Amor, ad esser micidial pietoso

invita il mio tormento : secondo c'ho talento, dammi di morte gioia, si che lo spirto almen torni a Pistoia.

Since gone away from me
Are the sweet eyes wherein I mirrored thee.

Love, I have seen thee in those tender eyes,
Thinking on which to-day I am as slain :
Such mighty hosts of sorrow do arise
In memory that my soul cries out for pain,
Because, alas, Death doth not part us twain,
Even as I find me here
Parted both from that dear
Face and from all delight,
Because of the great strife 'twixt black and white.

When haply I would greet with courtesy
Some gentle lady, lifting up my eyes,
I feel that all my valiancy doth flee
And cannot stem the tears that in them rise,
Calling to mind that now Madonna lies
Far distantly from me ;
O mournful eyes, will ye
Not die for very rue ?
Of your free will, if Love agree thereto.

O Love, too cruel is my destiny,
These eyes are saddened by what they behold,
Close them, O Love, with thy hand piteously
Since they no more their vision fair enfold.
When life by way of death is given to hold,
Death is a happy goal.
Thou knowest where my soul
Hereafter needs must go,
Thou knowest, too, what pity it will know.

O Love, my torments do beseech of thee
Mercy in deadly wise,
As far as in me lies,
Let me death's gladness learn
And to Pistoia let my soul return.

FRANCESCO PETRARCA, 1304-1374

[ocr errors]

HIARE, fresche e dolci acque,

ove le belle membra pose colei che sola a me par donna ; gentil ramo, ove piacque (con sospir mi rimembra) a lei di fare al bel fianco colonna; erba e fior che la gonna leggiadra ricoverse co l' angelico seno ; aere sacro sereno, ove Amor co' begli occhi il cor m'aperse ; date udienzia insieme a le dolenti mie parole estreme.

S' egli è pur mio destino, e 'l cielo in ciò s'adopra, ch' Amor quest' occhi lagrimando chiuda, qualche grazia il meschino corpo fra voi ricopra, e torni l' alma al proprio albergo ignuda. La morte fia men cruda, se questa spene porto a quel dubbioso passo; chè lo spirito lasso non porria mai 'n più riposato porto, nè in più tranquilla fossa fuggir la carne travagliata e l'ossa.

Tempo verrà ancor forse, che a l' usato soggiorno torni la fera bella e mansueta ; e là, 'v' ella mi scorse nel benedetto giorno,

FRANCESCO PETRARCA, 1304-1374

CH

LEAR, cool streams that softly flow

Where she lay in loveliness
Who hath no peer on earth below;
Gracious tree she deigned to bless,
Leaning her sweet body down
(I must sigh remembering);
Ye beneath her dainty gown,
Flowers and grasses covering
Her angelic bosom o'er;
Blessed and unclouded skies,
Where Love opened my heart's door
With the wonder of her eyes ;
Hearken to the words I sing
Of my bitter sorrowing.

Would that so my lot were cast,
And thereunto the Heavens agree,
For Love to close my eyes at last,
And this my worthless body be
Endowed with some kind grace of yours,
What time my soul in nakedness
Must pass beyond its earthly doors.
Death will be without distress
If such hopes with me remain
When I cross the shadowy sea ;
In a quiet port again
Will my weary spirit be,
Cast this tortured flesh aside
And in tranquil grave abide.

Unto this familiar place Haply she once more may stray In her gentleness and grace; Where upon that blessed day We first met, she may be fain

« ÖncekiDevam »