Petrarch Laura Francesco Petrarch and Laura For a woman he would never know
For a woman he could never have
He should change the world forever
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Petrarch:The Canzoniere

Translated by: A.S.Kline
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Information on the sonnet is available here.
Looking for an analysis of a specific poem from the Canzoniere?
Read I go thinking an analysis of poem 264 by Holly Barbaccia.


ITALIAN ENGLISH
Tacer non posso, et temo non adopre
contrario effecto la mia lingua al core,
che vorria far honore
a la sua donna, che dal ciel n'ascolta.
Come poss'io, se non m'insegni, Amore,
con parole mortali aguagliar l'opre
divine, et quel che copre
alta humiltate, in se stessa raccolta?
Ne la bella pregione, onde or è sciolta,
poco era stato anchor l'alma gentile,
al tempo che di lei prima m'accorsi:
onde súbito corsi,
ch'era de l'anno et di mi' etate aprile,
a coglier fiori in quei prati d'intorno,
sperando a li occhi suoi piacer sí addorno.

Muri eran d'alabastro, e 'l tetto d'oro,
d'avorio uscio, et fenestre di zaffiro,
onde 'l primo sospiro
mi giunse al cor, et giugnerà l'extremo:
Inde i messi d'Amor armati usciro
di saette et di foco, ond'io di loro,
coronati d'alloro,
pur come or fusse, ripensando tremo.
D'un bel diamante quadro, et mai non scemo,
vi si vedea nel mezzo un seggio altero
ove, sola, sedea, la bella donna:
dinanzi, una colonna
cristallina, et iv'entro ogni pensero
scritto, et for tralucea sí chiaramente,
che mi fea lieto, et sospirar sovente.

A le pungenti, ardenti et lucide arme,
a la vittorïosa insegna verde,
contra cui in campo perde
Giove et Apollo et Poliphemo et Marte,
ov'è 'l pianto ognor fresco, et si rinverde,
giunto mi vidi: et non possendo aitarme,
preso lassai menarme
ond'or non so d'uscir la via né l'arte.
Ma sí com'uom talor che piange, et parte
vede cosa che li occhi e 'l cor alletta,
cosí colei per ch'io son in pregione,
standosi ad un balcone,
che fu sola a' suoi dí cosa perfetta,
cominciai a mirar con tal desio
che me stesso e 'l mio mal posi in oblio.

I' era in terra, e 'l cor in paradiso,
dolcemente oblïando ogni altra cura,
et mia viva figura
far sentia un marmo e 'mpiér di meraviglia,
quando una donna assai pronta et secura,
di tempo anticha, et giovene del viso,
vedendomi sí fiso
a l'atto de la fronte et de le ciglia:
"Meco - mi disse -, meco ti consiglia,
ch'i' son d'altro poder che tu non credi;
et so far lieti et tristi in un momento,
piú leggiera che 'l vento,
et reggo et volvo quando al mondo vedi.
Tien' pur li occhi come aquila in quel sole:
parte da' orecchi a queste mie parole.

Il dí che costei nacque, eran le stelle
che producon fra voi felici effecti
in luoghi alti et electi,
l'una ver' l'altra con amor converse:
Venere e 'l padre con benigni aspecti
tenean le parti signorili et belle,
et le luci impie et felle
quasi in tutto del ciel eran disperse.
Il sol mai sí bel giorno non aperse:
l'aere et la terra s'allegrava, et l'acque
per lo mar avean pace et per li fiumi.
Fra tanti amici lumi,
una nube lontana mi dispiacque:
la qual temo che 'n pianto si resolve,
se Pietate altramente il ciel non volve.

Com'ella venne in questo viver basso,
ch'a dir il ver non fu degno d'averla,
cosa nova a vederla,
già santissima et dolce anchor acerba,
parea chiusa in òr fin candida perla;
et or carpone, or con tremante passo,
legno, acqua, terra, o sasso
verde facea, chiara, soave, et l'erba
con le palme o co i pie' fresca et superba,
et fiorir co i belli occhi le campagne,
et acquetar i vènti et le tempeste
con voci anchor non preste,
di lingua che dal latte si scompagne:
chiaro mostrando al mondo sordo et cieco
quanto lume del ciel fusse già seco.

Poi che crescendo in tempo et in virtute,
giunse a la terza sua fiorita etate,
leggiadria né beltate
tanta non vide 'l sol, credo, già mai:
li occhi pien' di letitia et d'onestate,
e 'l parlar di dolcezza et di salute.
Tutte lingue son mute,
a dir di lei quel che tu sol ne sai.
Sí chiaro à 'l volto di celesti rai,
che vostra vista in lui non pò fermarse;
et da quel suo bel carcere terreno
di tal foco ài 'l cor pieno,
ch'altro piú dolcemente mai non arse:
ma parmi che sua súbita partita
tosto ti fia cagion d'amara vita".

Detto questo, a la sua volubil rota
si volse, in ch'ella fila il nostro stame,
trista et certa indivina de' miei danni:
ché, dopo non molt'anni,
quella per ch'io ò di morir tal fame,
canzon mia, spense Morte acerba et rea,
che piú bel corpo occider non potea.
I can't be silent, yet I fear to use
my tongue lest it contradicts my heart,
though it wishes to do honour
to its lady listening from heaven.
How can I, unless you teach me, Love,
how to match mortal words to things
divine, that high humility
conceals, and gathers to itself?
Her gentle soul had only been, a little while
within that prison she's now freed from,
at that time when I first saw her:
so that I suddenly ran,
since it was spring of the year and my life,
to gather flowers in the fields around,
hoping, so adorned, to please her eyes.

The walls were alabaster, the roof of gold,
the entrance ivory, the windows sapphires,
from which the first sigh
came to my heart, and the last shall come:
from there Love's armed messengers issued
with fire and arrows, so that I,
crowned with laurel,
tremble to recall it, as if it were today,.
Made from cut diamond, never flawed,
a noble throne was seen within,
where the lovely lady sat alone:
in front a crystal
column, and all her thoughts there
written, and shining from it so clearly,
it made me joyful, and often full of sighs.

I found myself met with piercing, eager, bright
weapons, with the victorious green banner,
against which in the field
Jove, Apollo, Polyphemus, Mars, were lost,
whose tears are always fresh and green,
and no hope of aid for me, and taken,
I let myself be led
where I know no way or art to free myself.
But like a man who sometimes weeps, and yet
sees something that delights his eyes and heart,
so I began to gaze with like desire
at her, for whom I am in prison,
she standing on a balcony,
and the sole perfect creature of her age,
so that I and my ills were lost in oblivion.

I was on earth, and my heart in paradise,
sweetly forgetting every other care,
and felt my living form
become a statue petrified by wonder,
when a lady, swift and confident,
of mature years, and youthful face,
seeing me so intent,
by the action of my brow and eyes, said:
'Take counsel from me, I say, take counsel,
for I have greater powers than you know:
and create joy or sadness in a moment,
more swiftly than the wind,
and rule and watch while the world turns.
Hold your eyes steady like an eagle on the sun:
while you listen to my words.

The day that she was born, the planets
that produce happy effects among you
were in a special and noble array,
turned to each other in love:
Venus, and Jupiter of benign aspect,
took a lovely and auspicious place,
and the evil, harmful lights
were scattered over almost all the sky.
The sun had never shone on so fair a day:
the air and earth rejoiced, and the waves
in the seas and rivers were at rest.
Among so many friendly stars,
one distant cloud displeased me:
which I fear will melt away in tears
if Pity does not nobly change heaven's course.

When she entered this low earthly life,
which, to tell the truth, was not worthy of her,
a new sight to see,
already saintly, and sweet yet bitter,
she seemed a fine white pearl enclosed in gold:
then as she crawled, then took faltering steps,
wood, water, earth, and stone
grew green, clear, soft, and the grass
proud and new under her hands and feet,
and made the fields flower with her lovely eyes,
and quietened the winds and the storm
with a voice still not formed,
with a tongue still wet with her mother's milk:
showing clearly to the deaf, blind world
how much of heaven's light was already in her.

When she grew in age and virtue,
in her youth's later flowering,
such grace and beauty
was never seen, I think, under the sun:
her eyes filled with joy and virtue,
her speech with sweetness and welcome.
All tongues are mute,
to say of her what you alone know.
So bright is her face with celestial rays,
your gaze cannot stay fixed on her:
and your heart is so full of fire
with her lovely earthly prison,
that no one ever burned so sweetly:
but it seems to me her swift departing
will soon be a cause of bitter days for you.'

This said, she turned to her fickle wheel
with which she spins the thread of our life,
the sad and certain prophetess of my doom:
for, my Song, after not many years,
she through whom I hunger so for death,
cruel and bitter Death extinguished,
who could not find a lovelier one to kill.


© Copyright 1999-2006
Peter Sadlon
Updated Sept 10th 2007

A Merentha Entertainment Project


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