by Mark Musa
et più colei lo cui bel viso adorno
di ben far co’ suoi esempli m’innamora.
Ma chi pensò veder mai tutti insieme
per assalirmi il core, or quindi or quinci,
questi dolci nemici ch’ i’ tant’ amo?
Amor, con quanto sforzo oggi mi vinci!
et se non ch’ al desio cresce la speme,
i’ cadrei morto ove più viver bramo.
86
Io avrò sempre in odio la fenestra
onde Amor m’aventò già mille strali
perch’ alquanti di lor non fur mortali:
ch’ è bel morir mentre la vita è destra,
ma ’l sovrastar ne la pregion terrestra
cagion m’è, lasso, d’infiniti mali,
et più mi duol che fien meco immortali
poi che l’aima dal cor non si scapestra.
Misera, che devrebbe esser accorta
per lunga esperienza omai che ’l tempo
non è chi ’ndietro volga o chi l’affreni!
Più volte l’ò con ta’ parole scorta:
“Vattene, trista, che non va per tempo
chi dopo lassa i suoi dì più sereni.”
85
I always loved and still I love with passion
and I’m for loving more from day to day
that place so sweet, where weeping I return
so many times when Love saddens my heart;
and I am fixed in love of day and hour
that took all lowly cares away from me,
and more of her whose lovely face makes me
in love with doing well through her example.
Whoever thought to see them all together
as they assail my heart from every side,
all these sweet enemies I love so much?
Love, with what force you vanquish me today!
And were it not that hope grows with desire,
I would drop dead where I most yearn to live.
86
Forever more I shall detest the window
from where Love shot at me thousands of arrows
for none of them has struck a mortal blow;
death would be lovely while life goes so well.
But staying longer in my earthly prison
is cause, alas, of all my endless woes,
and I grieve more that they will be immortal
since soul from heart cannot be disentangled.
Poor soul who should have been aware by now
through long experience that there is no one
can turn back time or slow it down from running!
So many times I’ve warned her with these words:
“Leave now, sad soul, for he does not go early
who leaves behind his happiest of days.”
87
Sì tosto corne aven che l’arco scocchi,
buon sagittario di lontan discerne
qual colpo è da sprezzare et qual d’averne
fede ch’ al destinato segno tocchi;
similemente il colpo de’ vostr’occhi,
Donna, sentiste a le mie parti interne
dritto passare, onde conven ch’ eterne
lagrime per la piaga il cor trabocchi;
et certo son che voi diceste allora:
“Misero amante! a che vaghezza il mena?
Ecco lo strale onde Amor vol ch’ e’ mora.”
Ora, veggendo come ’l duol m’affrena,
quel che mi fanno i miei nemici ancora
non è per morte ma per più mia pena.
88
Poi che mia spene è lunga a venir troppo
et de la vita il trapassar si corto,
vorreimi a miglior tempo esser accorto
per fuggir dietro più che di galoppo;
et fuggo ancor così debile et zoppo
da l’un de’ lati ove ’l desio mi à storto,
securo omai; ma pur nel viso porto
segni ch’ io presi a l’amoroso intoppo.
Ond’ io consiglio: “Voi che siete in via,
volgete i passi, et voi ch’ Amore avampa,
non v’indugiate su l’estremo ardore,
“ché perch’ io viva, de mille un no scampa.
Era ben forte la nemica mia,
et lei vid’ io ferita in mezzo ’l core.”
87
As soon as he has let the bowstring go
an expert archer from afar can see
which shot goes wrong and which he may have faith
will strike the target it was destined for;
in like fashion, lady, you felt the shot
pass from your eyes straight into my insides
wherefore my heart is forced to overflow
from out the wound with its eternal tears,
and I am sure that at the time you said:
“Poor lover! Where does his desire take him?
This is the dart with which Love claims his death.”
Considering now how grief has me in check,
what my two enemies still do to me
is not to kill me but increase my pain.
88
Since what I hope for takes too long to come
and what is left of life is very short,
I wish I had been wiser earlier
and backed away much faster than a gallop;
but now I do flee though I’m weak and lame
on the side where desire has twisted me;
I’m safe now, but I still bear on my face
the scars I got while fighting in Love’s war.
So, I advise: “All you upon Love’s way,
turn back your steps, and you who burn with Love,
do not wait till your flame burns to extremes;
“though I live, not one in a thousand makes it.
And certainly my enemy was strong,
for she I saw wounded straight through the heart.”
89
Fuggendo la pregione ove Amor m’ebbe
molt’anni a far di me quel ch’ a lui parve,
Donne mie, lungo fora ricontarve
quanto la nova libertà m’increbbe.
Diceami il cor che per sé non saprebbe
viver un giorno, et poi tra via m’apparve
quel traditore in si mentite larve
che più saggio di me ingannato avrebbe.
Onde più volte sospirando indietro
dissi: “Oimè, il giogo et le catene e i ceppi
eran più dolci che l’andare sciolto!”
Misero me, che tardo il mio mal seppi,
et con quanta fatica oggi mi spetro
de l’errore ov’ io stesso m’era involto.
90
Erano i capei d’oro a l’aura sparsi
che ’n mille dolci nodi gli avolgea,
e ’l vago lume oltra misura ardea
di quei begli occhi, ch’ or ne son sì scarsi;
e ’l viso di pietosi color farsi
(non so se vero o falso) mi parea:
i’ che l’esca amorosa al petto avea,
qual meraviglia se di subito arsi?
Non era l’andar suo cosa mortale
ma d’angelica forma, et le parole
sonavan altro che pur voce umana:
uno spirto celeste, un vivo sole
fu quel ch’ i’ vidi, et se non fosse or tale,
piaga per allentar d’arco non sana.
89
Escaping from the prison where Love kept me
while doing what he liked with me for years,
would take too long to tell about, my ladies,
how much my new-found liberty displeased me.
My heart was saying that it could not live
another day alone when there appeared
along the way that traitor so disguised
he could have fooled a wiser man than I.
Then sighing many times for what was past
I said: “Oh my, the yoke, the chains, the shackles
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br /> were sweeter than my living free like this!”
Poor me who understood my harm so late!
How hard it is today to free myself
from error that I wrapped my own self in!
90
She’d let her gold hair flow free in the breeze
that whirled it into thousands of sweet knots,
and lovely light would burn beyond all measure
in those fair eyes whose light is dimmer now.
Her face would turn the color pity wears,
a pity true or false I did not know,
and I with all Love’s tinder in my breast—
it’s no surprise I quickly caught on fire.
The way she walked was not the way of mortals
but of angelic forms, and when she spoke
more than an earthly voice it was that sang:
a godly spirit and a living sun
was what I saw, and if she is not now,
my wound still bleeds, although the bow’s unbent.
91
La bella donna che cotanto amavi
subitamente s’è da noi partita
et, per quel ch’ io ne speri, al ciel salita,
si furon gli atti suoi dolci soavi.
Tempo è da ricovrare ambe la chiavi
del tuo cor ch’ ella possedeva in vita
et seguir lei per via dritta espedita:
peso terren non sia più che t’aggravi.
Poi che se’ sgombro de la maggior salma,
l’altre puoi giuso agevolmente porre,
saliendo quasi un pellegrino scarco;
ben vedi omai sì come a morte corre
ogni cosa creata, et quanto a l’aima
bisogna ir lieve al periglioso varco.
92
Piangete, Donne, et con voi pianga Amore,
piangete, amanti, per ciascun paese
poi ch’ è morto colui che tutto intese
in farvi, mentre visse al mondo, onore.
Io per me prego il mio acerbo dolore
non sian da lui le lagrime contese
et mi sia di sospir tanto cortese
quanto bisogna a disfogare il core.
Piangan le rime ancor, piangano i versi,
perché ’l nostro amoroso messer Cino
novellamente s’è da noi partito.
Pianga Pistoia e i cittadin perversi
che perduto ànno sì dolce vicino,
et rallegresi il cielo ov’ ello è gito.
91
The lovely lady whom you loved so much
has suddenly departed from our midst
and, as I hope is true, has gone to Heaven,
so sweet, so gentle were all of her deeds.
It’s time now to recover both the keys
that worked your heart which she possessed in life,
to follow her along a straight, clear path;
let earthly weight no longer hold you down.
Since you are lightened of your greatest burden,
you easily can put down all the others
and rise up as a weightless pilgrim would.
You clearly see now how all things created
run toward their death and just how light the soul
must be to make it through the dangerous pass.
92
Now weep, ladies, and with you let Love weep;
let every lover weep in every land
for he is dead, that one whose mind was fixed
on honoring you while he still lived on earth.
As for myself, I pray my own cruel sorrow
not be the cause of stopping up my tears,
and be so courteous to let me sigh
enough so that my heart may be unburdened.
Let poetry weep too, let every verse,
because our very loving messer Cino
has just now gone and left us all alone.
Pistoia, weep, and all her wicked folk
for having lost a neighbor sweet as he,
and Heaven, celebrate, where he has gone.
93
Più volte Amor m’avea già detto: “Scrivi,
scrivi quel che vedesti in lettre d’oro,
si come i miei seguaci discoloro
e ’n un momento gli fo morti et vivi.
“Un tempo fu che ’n te stesso ’l sentivi,
volgare esempio a l’amoroso coro;
poi di man mi ti tolse altro lavoro,
ma già ti raggiuns’ io mentre fuggivi,
“et se’ begli occhi ond’ io me ti mostrai,
et là dove era il mio dolce ridutto
quando ti ruppi al cor tanta durezza,
“mi rendon l’arco ch’ ogni cosa spezza,
forse non avrai sempre il viso asciutto:
ch’ i’ mi pasco di lagrime, et tu ’l sai.”
94
Quando giugne per gli occhi al cor profondo
l’imagin donna, ogni altra indi si parte,
et le vert che l’anima comparte
lascian le membra quasi immobil pondo;
et del primo miracolo il secondo
nasce talor, che la scacciata parte
da se stessa fuggendo arriva in parte
che fa vendetta e ’l suo esilio giocondo;
quinci in duo volti un color morto appare,
perché ’l vigor che vivi gli mostrava
da nessun lato è più là dove stava.
Et di questo in quel di mi ricordava
ch’ i’ vidi duo amanti trasformare
et far qual io mi soglio in vista fare.
93
Many a time has Love said to me: “Write,
write down in golden letters what you’ve seen,
how I change those who follow me in color
and in an instant make them live and die.
“There was a time when you felt this yourself,
famous example to all those who love;
then other work took you out of my hands,
but I caught up with you while you were fleeing,
“and if those lovely eyes you saw me in—
that place which was for me a docile fortress
when I broke all the hardness of your heart—
“give back to me my bow that shatters all,
perhaps your cheeks will not always be dry;
you know quite well how I can feed on tears.”
94
When through my eyes to my heart’s depths there comes
the master image, all the rest depart
and all the powers that the soul distributes
leave all the body’s members like dead weight;
from this first miracle a second one
sometimes is born: the part that’s driven out
in fleeing from itself reaches a place
that makes both vengeance and its exile joy;
so in two faces one dead color shows,
for all the power that showed they were alive
no longer is where it was at the start.
And this came to my mind the day on which
I saw two lovers in such transformation,
faces becoming what mine often does.
95
Così potess’ io ben chiudere in versi
i miei pensier come nel cor gli chiudo,
ch’ animo al mondo non fu mai si crudo
ch’ i’ non facessi per pietà dolersi.
Ma voi, occhi beau, ond’ io soffersi
quel colpo ove non valse elmo né scudo,
di for et dentro mi vedete ignudo
ben che ’n lamenti il duol non si riversi.
Poi che vostro veder in me risplende
come raggio di sol traluce in vetro,
basti dunque il desio senza ch’ io dica.
Lasso, non a Maria, non nocque a Pietro
la fede ch’ a me sol tanto è nemica!
et so ch’ altri che voi, nessun m’intende.
96
Io son de l’aspettar
omai si vinto
et de la lunga guerra de’ sospiri,
ch’ i’ aggio in odio la speme e i desiri
et ogni laccio onde ’l mio cor è avinto.
Ma ’l bel viso leggiadro che depinto
porto nel petto et veggio ove ch’ io miri
mi sforza, onde ne’ primi empi martiri
pur son contra mia voglia risospinto.
Allor errai quando l’antica strada
di libertà mi fu precisa et tolta,
ché mal si segue ciò ch’ agli occhi agrada;
allor corse al suo mal libera et sciolta,
ora a posta d’altrui conven che vada
l’anima che peccò sol una volta.
95
If only I could close as well in verse
as I enclose within my heart my thoughts,
there is no soul so cruel in all the world
that I could not make grieve for me with pity.
But you, O blessèd eyes, from whom I suffered
that blow no helm or shield could have availed me,
you see me naked inside and without,
although my pain does not pour out in cries.
Since your eyes’ sight shines splendidly through me,
the way a ray of sunlight shines through glass,
let my desire without words suffice.
Alas, Mary or Peter were not harmed
by faithfulness to me alone so hostile!
I know no one but you can undertand.
96
I am so tired now of all this waiting
and of the battle I wage with my sighs
that I hate hope and hate what I desire
and every noose with which my heart is bound.
But that fair, charming face that I bear painted
inside of me and I see everywhere
compels me, and into those first cruel tortures
I’m driven back no less against my will.
I first went wrong when I found my old road
of freedom was cut off and blocked to me—
it’s bad to follow what the eyes find pleasing—
then it ran free and unbound to its harm,
now it is forced to do another’s pleasure,