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قراءة كتاب Fifteen sonnets of Petrarch
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اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 4
the glorious fame
Of chastity, of strength, of courtesy?
Gaze in the eyes of that sweet enemy
Whom all the world doth as my lady name!
How honor grows, and pure devotion’s flame,
How truth is joined with graceful dignity,
There thou mayst learn, and what the path may be
To that high heaven which doth her spirit claim;
There learn that speech, beyond all poet’s skill,
And sacred silence, and those holy ways
Unutterable, untold by human heart.
But the infinite beauty that all eyes doth fill,
This none can learn! because its lovely rays
Are given by God’s pure grace, and not by art.
V
| O passi sparsi, o pensier vaghi e pronti, O tenace memoria, o fero ardore, O possente desire, o debil core, O occhi miei, occhi non già, ma fonti; O fronde, onor delle famose fronti, O sola insegna al gemino valore; O faticosa vita, o dolce errore, Che mi fate ir cercando piagge e monti; O bel viso, ov’Amor insieme pose Gli sproni e ’l fren, ond’e’ mi punge e volve Com’a lui piace, e calcitrar non vale; O anime gentili ed amorose, S’alcuna ha ’l mondo; e voi nude ombre e polve; Deh restate a veder qual è ’l mio male. |
V
| O wandering steps! O vague and busy dreams! O changeless memory! O fierce desire! O passion strong! heart weak with its own fire; O eyes of mine! not eyes, but living streams; O laurel boughs! whose lovely garland seems The sole reward that glory’s deeds require! O haunted life! delusion sweet and dire, That all my days from slothful rest redeems; O beauteous face! where Love has treasured well His whip and spur, the sluggish heart to move At his least will; nor can it find relief. O souls of love and passion! if ye dwell Yet on this earth, and ye, great Shades of Love! Linger, and see my passion and my grief. |
VI
| I’ vidi in terra angelici costumi E celesti bellezze al mondo sole; Tal che di rimembrar mi giova e dole; Ché quant’io miro par sogni, ombre e fumi. E vidi lagrimar que’ duo bei lumi, C’han fatto mille volle invidia al Sole; Ed udii sospirando dir parole Che farian gir i monti e stare i fiumi. Amor, senno, valor, pietate e doglia Facean piangendo un più dolce concento D’ogni altro che nel mondo udir si soglia: Ed era ’l cielo all’armonia sì ’ntento, Che non si vedea ’n ramo mover foglia; Tanta dolcezza avea pien l’aere e ’l vento. |
VI
| I once beheld on earth celestial graces And heavenly beauties scarce to mortals known, Whose memory yields nor joy nor grief alone, But all things else in cloud and dreams effaces. I saw how tears had left their weary traces Within those eyes that once the sun outshone, I heard those lips, in low and plaintive moan, Breathe words to stir the mountains from their places. Love, wisdom, courage, tenderness, and truth Made in their mourning strains more high and dear Than ever wove soft sounds for mortal ear; And heaven seemed listening in such saddest ruth The very leaves upon the bough to soothe, Such sweetness filled the blissful atmosphere. |
VII
| Gli occhi di ch’io parlai sì caldamente, E le braccia e le mani e i piedi e ’l viso Che m’avean sì da me stesso diviso E fatto singular dall’altra gente; Le crespe chiome d’or puro lucente, E ’l lampeggiar dell’angelico riso Che solean far in terra un paradiso, Poca polvere son, che nulla sente. Ed io pur vivo; onde mi doglio e sdegno, Rimaso senza ’l lume ch’amai tanto, In gran fortuna e ’n disarmato legno. Or sia qui fine al mio amoroso canto: Secca è la vena dell’usato ingegno, E la cetera mia rivolta in pianto. |
VII
| Those eyes, ’neath which my passionate rapture rose, The arms, hands, feet, the beauty that erewhile Could my own soul from its own self beguile, And in a separate world of dreams enclose, The hair’s bright tresses, full of golden glows, And the soft lightning of the angelic smile That changed this earth to some celestial isle,— Are now but dust, poor dust, that nothing knows. And yet I live! Myself I grieve and scorn, Left dark without the light I loved in vain, Adrift in tempest on a bark forlorn; Dead is the source of all my amorous strain, Dry is the channel of my thoughts outworn, And my sad harp can sound but notes of pain. |
VIII
| Soleasi nel mio cor star bella e viva, Com’alta donna in loco umile e basso: Or son fatt’io per l’ultimo suo passo, Non pur mortal ma morto; ed ella è diva. L’alma d’ogni suo ben spogliata e priva, Amor della sua luce ignudo e casso Devrian della pietà romper un sasso: Ma non è chi lor duol riconti o scriva; Ché piangon dentro, ov’ogni orecchia è |