by Mark Musa
which gold and amber and the sun surpasses:
I mean her golden hair, the curly snare
that with such softness binds and tightens round
my soul armed only with humility.
Her shadow is enough to turn my heart
to ice and tinge my face with whitened fear—
her eyes, however, can turn them into marble.
198
The gentle aura spreads and waves in sunlight
the gold Love spins and weaves with his own hands;
there with her lovely eyes and hair she binds
my weary heart and lifts my vital spirits.
The marrow of my bones, my blood’s own fiber
all tremble just to come into the presence
of one who often weighs and balances
my life and death upon a fragile scale,
to see those lights that burn and make me burn
and those locks which have bound me, shimmering
on her right shoulder now, then on her left.
I can’t explain, I cannot comprehend,
my mind is struck by two such lights as these
and wearied and oppressed by so much sweetness.
199
O bella man che mi destringi ’l core
e ’n poco spazio la mia vita chiudi,
man ov’ ogni arte et tutti loro studi
poser Natura e ’l Ciel per farsi onore,
di cinque perle oriental colore,
et sol ne le mie piaghe acerbi et crudi,
diti schietti soavi, a tempo ignudi
consente or voi per arricchirme Amore.
Candido leggiadretto et caro guanto
che copria netto avorio et fresche rose:
chi vide al mondo mai sì dolci spoglie?
Così avess’ io del bel velo altrettanto!
O inconstanzia de l’umane cose,
pur questo è furto, et vien chi me ne spoglie.
200
Non pur quell’una bella ignuda mano
che con grave mio danno si riveste,
ma l’altra et le duo braccia accorte et preste
son a stringere il cor timido et piano.
Lacci Amor mille, et nesun tende invano
fra quelle vaghe nove forme oneste
ch’ adornan sì l’alto abito celeste
ch’ agiunger nol po stil né ’ngegno umano:
li occhi sereni et le stellanti ciglia,
la bella bocca angelica di perle
piena et di rose, et di dolci parole
che fanno altrui tremar di meraviglia,
et la fronte, et le chiome ch’ a vederle
di state a mezzo dì vincono il sole.
199
O lovely hand that squeezes my heart tight,
enclosing in so little space my life,
hand upon which all art and care was spent
by Nature and by Heaven for its praise,
with your five pearls of oriental hue
whose only bitter cruelness is to wound me,
those fingers long and soft which naked now
luckily Love shows me for my enrichment.
Pure white and gaily light, dear glove
that covers polished ivory and fresh roses,
who ever saw on earth such gracious spoils?
Would that I had as much of her fair veil!
O the inconstancy of human things!
But this is theft, and must be taken back.
200
Not only that one lovely, naked hand
that clothes itself again to my deep sorrow
but the other, too, and those two arms, are ready
and swift to squeeze my meek and humble heart.
A thousand snares Love sets, and none in vain,
among those charming, new, and honest forms
adorning so her high and heavenly bearing
that human style and genius cannot reach it:
her tranquil eyes, her eyebrows lit by stars,
her mouth, angelic, beautiful, and full
of pearls and roses and sweetness of words
that make a person tremble in amazement,
and then her forehead and her hair which seen
in summer at high noon put out the sun.
201
Mia ventura et Amor m’avean sì adorno
d’un bello aurato et serico trapunto,
ch’ al sommo del mio ben quasi era aggiunto
pensando meco: “A chi fu quest’ intorno!”
Né mi riede a la mente mai quel giorno
che mi fe’ ricco et povero in un punto
ch’ i’ non sia d’ira et di dolor compunto,
pien di vergogna et d’amoroso scorno
che la mia nobil preda non più stretta
tenni al bisogno et non fui più costante
contra lo sforzo sol d’un’angioletta,
o, fuggendo, ale non giunsi a le piante
per far almen di quella man vendetta
che de li occhi mi trae lagrime tante.
202
D’un bel chiaro polito et vivo ghiaccio
move la fiamma che m’incende et strugge,
et si le vene e ’l cor m’asciuga et sugge
che ’nvisibilemente i’ mi disfaccio.
Morte, già per ferire alzato ’l braccio,
come irato ciei tona o leon rugge
va perseguendo mia vita che fugge,
et io pien di paura tremo et taccio.
Ben poria ancor pietà con amor mista
per sostegno di me, doppia colonna,
porsi fra l’alma stanca e ’l mortal colpo;
ma io nol credo, né 1 conosco in vista
di quella dolce mia nemica et donna;
né di ciò lei ma mia ventura incolpo.
201
Love and my own good fortune had so blessed me
with that embroidery of silk and gold
that I was near the summit of my joy
as I said to myself: “Think who has worn this!”
Nor does that day ever return to mind
that made me rich and poor at the same time
that I’m not moved by anger and by grief,
full of my shame and of my amorous scorn
that I did not hold tighter, as I should,
to my noble spoils and that I was not firmer
against the strength of just one little angel,
or, fleeing, did not add wings to my feet,
and so at least take vengeance on the hand
that draws out of my eyes so many tears.
202
From lovely, polished, clear and living ice
there moves the flame that melts and kindles me
and dries and drains my heart and veins so much
that I am perishing invisibly.
Death, with his arm already raised to strike,
like angry, thundering skies or lion that roars,
insistently pursues my life that flees,
and I in silence tremble full of fear.
But pity mixed with love could still be placed
like double columns in support of me
between my weary soul and that deathblow;
but I don’t think it will nor do I see it
on that sweet lady’s face, my enemy,
and I do not blame her for it, but fate.
203
Lasso, ch’ i’ ardo et altri non mel crede,
sì crede ogni uom se non sola colei
ch’ è sovr’ ogni altra et ch’ i’ sola vorrei:
ella non par che ’l creda, et sì sel vede.
Infinita bellezza et poca fede:
non vedete voi ’l cor nelli occhi mei?
Se non fusse mia stella, i’ pur devrei
al fonte di pietà trovar mercede.
Quest’ arder mio di che vi cal si poco
e i vostri onori in mie rime diffusi
ne porian infiammar fors’ ancor mille,
ch’ i’ ve
ggio nel penser, dolce mio foco,
fredda una lingua et duo belli occhi chiusi
rimaner dopo noi pien di faville.
204
Anima che diverse cose tante
vedi, odi et leggi, et parli et scrivi et pensi:
occhi miei vaghi, et tu fra li altri sensi
che scorgi al cor l’alte parole sante:
per quanto non vorreste o poscia od ante
esser giunti al camin che sì mal tiensi,
per non trovarvi i duo bei lumi accensi
né l’orme impresse de l’amate piante?
Or con si chiara luce et con tai segni
errar non dèsi in quel breve viaggio
che ne po far d’eterno albergo degni;
sforzati al cielo, o mio stanco coraggio,
per la nebbia entro de’ suoi dolci sdegni
seguendo i passi onesti e ’l divo raggio.
203
Alas, I burn but she cannot believe it,
and everyone believes except the one
I would, above all others, have believe;
she seems not to believe and yet she sees it.
Unending beauty of such little faith,
can you not see my heart within my eyes?
Were it not for my star, I surely would
find mercy at the fountain of your pity.
The way I burn, for which you care so little
and all your praise diffused in all my verse
could yet inflame perhaps a thousand others,
for in my thoughts I see, O my sweet fire,
once cold my tongue, once closed your lovely eyes
still full of sparks will be when we have gone.
204
My soul that sees so many different things,
that hears and reads and speaks and writes and thinks;
my wishful eyes, and you among the senses
who guides her holy words into my heart;
how much would you have liked to reach life’s road
so badly traveled before she came or after
and not find there those two fair lights that shine
or footprints made by those beloved feet?
And now with such clear light and with such signs
we must not lose our way in that short journey
which can prepare us for our final home.
Now strive for Heaven, O my weary heart,
straight through the cloud of all her sweet disdains
behind her virtuous steps and light divine.
205
Dolci ire, dolci sdegni et dolci paci,
dolce mal, dolce affanno et dolce peso,
dolce parlare et dolcemente inteso,
or di dolce òra, or pien di dolci faci!
Alma, non ti lagnar ma soffra et taci,
et tempra il dolce amaro che n’à offeso
col dolce onor che d’amar quella ài preso
a cui io dissi: “Tu sola mi piaci.”
Forse ancor fia chi sospirando dica,
tinto di dolce invidia: “Assai sostenne
per bellissimo amor quest’ al suo tempo.”
Altri: “O Fortuna agli occhi miei nemica!
perché non la vid’ io? perché non venne
ella più tardi, o ver io più per tempo?”
206
S’ i’ ’l dissi mai, ch’ i’ vegna in odio a quella
del cui amor vivo et senza ’l qual morrei;
s’ i’ ’l dissi, che’ miei dì sian pochi et rei
et di vil signoria l’anima ancella;
s’ i’ ’l dissi, contra me s’arme ogni stella,
et dal mio lato sia
paura et gelosia,
et la nemica mia
più feroce ver me sempre et più bella!
S’ i’ ’l dissi, Amor l’aurate sue quadrella
spenda in me tutte, et l’impiombate in lei;
s’ i’ ’l dissi, cielo et terra, uomini et Dei
mi sian contrari, et essa ogni or più fella;
s’ i’ ’l dissi, chi con sua cieca facella
dritto a morte m’invia
pur come suol si stia,
205
Sweet anger, sweet disdain, sweet times of peace,
sweet harm, sweet torment, and sweet weight,
sweet spoken words and sweetly understood,
now full of a sweet breeze, now sweetest sparks!
My soul, do not complain, suffer in silence
and temper the sweet bitterness that hurt us
with the sweet honor you gain loving her
to whom I said: “You are my only pleasure.”
Perhaps someday, someone, sighing, will say
tinged with sweet envy: “How much this man
endured in life for this exquisite love.”
Others: “O Fortune hostile to my eyes!
Why couldn’t I have seen her? Why didn’t she
come later on, or I come earlier?”
206
If ever I said it, then may she hate me
whose love I live by, without which I die;
if I said it, my days be few and painful,
my soul the minion of some vulgar lordship;
if I said it, may all stars turn against me
and on my side let be
both fear and jealousy
and may my enemy
be fiercer toward me always and more lovely.
If I said it, may Love use all his arrows,
the golden ones on me, on her the leaden;
if I said it, may Heaven and earth, all men
and gods oppose me and she become more cruel;
if I said it, may she who with blind torch
leads me straight to my death
remain as she has been,
né mai più dolce o pia
ver me si mostri in atto od in favella!
S’ i’ ’l dissi mai, di quel ch’ i’ men vorrei
piena trovi quest’aspra et breve via;
s’ i’ ’l dissi, il fero ardor che mi desvia
cresca in me quanto il fier ghiaccio in costei;
s’ i’ ’l dissi, unqua non veggian li occhi mei
sol chiaro o sua sorella,
né donna né donzella,
ma terribil procella
qual Faraone in perseguir li Ebrei!
S’ i’ ’l dissi, coi sospir quant’ io mai fei
sia pietà per me morta et cortesia;
s’ i’ ’l dissi, il dir s’innaspri che s’udia
sì dolce allor che vinto mi rendei;
s’ ï’ ’l dissi, io spiaccia a quella ch’ i’ torrei
sol chiuso in fosca celia,
dal di che la mamella
lasciai fin che si svella
da me l’alma, adorar—forse e ’l farei!
Ma s’ io nol dissi, chi sì dolce apria
meo cor a speme ne l’età novella
regg’ ancor questa stanca navicella
col governo di sua pietà natia;
né diventi altra, ma pur qual solia
quando più non potei
(che me stesso perdei
né più perder devrei):
mal fa chi tanta fé si tosto oblia.
I’ nol dissi giamai, né dir poria
per oro o per cittadi o per castella;
vinca ’l ver dunque e si rimanga in sella,
e vinta a terra caggia la bugia!
Tu sai in me il tutto, Amor: s’ ella ne spia
dinne quel che dir dei;
i’ beato direi
tre volte e quattro e sei
chi devendo languir si morì pria.
not sweeter or more kind
toward me in how she acts or what she says.
If ever I said it, then may I find
this short, hard road full of my least desires;
if I said it, may my fierce flame misguiding
grow equal to the hard ice inside her;
if I said it, may my e
yes never see
the sun clear nor his sister
nor damsel nor a lady,
but a storm full of terror
as Pharaoh saw when he pursued the Jews.
If I said it, with all the sighs I’ve breathed
may pity for me die, and courtesy;
if I said it, may words of hers turn bitter,
so sweet when I surrendered to her then;
if I said it, may she hate me who gladly,
alone and locked in darkness
from the first day I left
the breast till soul’s uprooted,
I would adore—and I might just well do it.
But if I did not say it, may she who sweetly
opened my heart to hope when I was young
still steer this weary little bark of mine
with her own innate mercy at the tiller;
may she not change, but be what she was like
when I no longer could
resist and lost myself,
and have no more to lose:
to forget so soon such faithfulness is wrong.
I never said it, nor would I ever say it
not for the price of gold, cities, or castles;
so let truth conquer and hold to the saddle
and all those lies fall vanquished to the ground!
Love, you know all that’s in me: if she asks,
then tell her what you must;
I’d say that he’s more blessed,
three, four, and six times more
who dies before he has to languish first.
Per Rachel ò servito e non per Lia,
né con altra saprei
viver; e sosterrei,
quando ’l ciel ne rappella,
girmen con ella in sul carro de Elia.
207
Ben mi credea passar mio tempo omai
come passato avea quest’anni a dietro,
senz’ altro studio et senza novi ingegni;
or poi che da Madonna i’ non impetro
l’usata aita, a che condutto m’ai
tu ’l vedi, Amor, che tal arte m’insegni.
Non so s’ i’ me ne sdegni,
che ’n questa età mi fai divenir ladro
del bel lume leggiadro
senza ’l qual non vivrei in tanti affanni.
Così avess’ io i primi anni