S'i' fussi stato fermo a la spelunca
là dove Apollo diventò profeta,
Fiorenza avria forse oggi il suo poeta,
non pur Verona et Mantoa et Arunca;
ma perché 'l mio terren piú non s'ingiunca
de l'humor di quel sasso, altro pianeta
conven ch'i' segua, et del mio campo mieta
lappole et stecchi co la falce adunca.
L'oliva è secca, et è rivolta altrove
l'acqua che di Parnaso si deriva,
per cui in alcun tempo ella fioriva.
Cosí sventura over colpa mi priva
d'ogni buon fructo, se l'etterno Giove
de la sua gratia sopra me non piove.
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If I had stayed firmly in the cave
where Apollo became a prophet,
Florence perhaps might have her poet today
not just Mantua, and Verona:
But since my ground no longer yields reeds,
with the moisture from that rock, I must follow
another star, and, from my native fields, reap
thorns and thistles with my curved sickle.
The olive-tree is dry, and the water
that springs from Parnassus, through which
at one time it flowered, flows elsewhere.
So fault or misfortune will deprive me
of all the finest fruits, unless eternal Jove
pours his grace on me from above.
Note:
Petrarch would be Florence's poet.
Mantua was Virgil's birthplace, and Verona
Catullus's. Petrarch, though born in Arezzo,
identified himself with Florence.
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