Apollo, s'anchor vive il bel desio
che t'infiammava a le thesaliche onde,
et se non ài l'amate chiome bionde,
volgendo gli anni, già poste in oblio:
dal pigro gielo et dal tempo aspro et rio,
che dura quanto 'l tuo viso s'asconde,
difendi or l'onorata et sacra fronde,
ove tu prima, et poi fu' invescato io;
et per vertú de l'amorosa speme,
che ti sostenne ne la vita acerba,
di queste impressïon l'aere disgombra;
sí vedrem poi per meraviglia inseme
seder la donna nostra sopra l'erba,
et far de le sue braccia a se stessa ombra.
|
Apollo, if that sweet desire is still alive
that inflamed you by the river of Thessaly,
and if with the passing years you've not already
forgotten that beloved blonde hair:
defend the honoured and sacred leaves now,
where you long ago, and I lately, were caught,
through the slow frost and harsh and cruel time
that is endured while you hide your face:
and by the power of that amorous hope
that sustained you, though life was bitter,
disburden the air of this dark weather:
so we may see by a miracle together
our lady seated on the grass
lifting her arms to make herself a shade.
|
