Questo nostro caduco et fragil bene,
ch'è vento et ombra, et à nome beltate,
non fu già mai se non in questa etate
tutto in un corpo, et ciò fu per mie pene:
ché Natura non vòl, né si convene,
per far ricco un, por li altri in povertate;
or vèrso in ogni sua largitate
(perdonimi qual è bella, o si tene).
Non fu simil bellezza anticha o nova,
né sarà, credo; ma fu sí converta,
ch'a pena se n'accorse il mondo errante.
Tosto disparve: onde 'l cangiar mi giova
la poca vista a me dal cielo offerta
sol per piacer a le sue luci sante.
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This fragile and fallen good of ours,
this wind and shadow, Beauty by name,
was never, at least not in our age, complete
except in one body, and that was to my pain:
since Nature does not wish, nor is it fitting,
to make one rich, by impoverishing others:
yet all its wealth was everywhere in her
(pardon me you who are lovely, or think so).
There was never such beauty, ancient or modern,
nor will be, I believe: but so concealed
the world in error hardly noticed it.
She left us soon: and I am glad to lose
that little glimpse of her that heaven gave me,
only to take more pleasure in her sacred light.
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