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
site map   contact  

  PETRARCH
  LAURA & OTHERS

  PICTURES
  WRITINGS
  BOOKS

  THE COLLECTION

  EVENTS
  PAPERS & ESSAYS
  MUSIC SETTINGS

  FAQs
  WEB LINKS
  SITE MAP

  CONTACT

Google


Search this Site
Search the Web



Petrarch:The Canzoniere

Translated by: A.S.Kline
Download them all in English or Italian
<<< PREVIOUS <<< Poem 72 of 366 >>> NEXT >>>
JUMP TO POEM

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
Gentil mia donna, i' veggio
nel mover de' vostr'occhi un dolce lume
che mi mostra la via ch'al ciel conduce;
et per lungo costume,
dentro là dove sol con Amor seggio,
quasi visibilmente il cor traluce.
Questa è la vista ch'a ben far m'induce,
et che mi scorge al glorïoso fine;
questa sola dal vulgo m'allontana:
né già mai lingua humana
contar poria quel che le due divine
luci sentir mi fanno,
e quando 'l verno sparge le pruine,
et quando poi ringiovenisce l'anno
qual era al tempo del mio primo affanno.

Io penso: se là suso,
onde 'l motor eterno de le stelle
degnò mostrar del suo lavoro in terra,
son l'altr'opre sí belle,
aprasi la pregione, ov'io son chiuso,
et che 'l camino a tal vita mi serra.
Poi mi rivolgo a la mia usata guerra,
ringratiando Natura e 'l dí ch'io nacqui
che reservato m'ànno a tanto bene,
et lei ch'a tanta spene
alzò il mio cor: ché 'nsin allor io giacqui
a me noioso et grave,
da quel dí inanzi a me medesmo piacqui,
empiendo d'un pensier alto et soave
quel core ond'ànno i begli occhi la chiave.

Né mai stato gioioso
Amor o la volubile Fortuna
dieder a chi piú fur nel mondo amici,
ch'i' nol cangiassi ad una
rivolta d'occhi, ond'ogni mio riposo
vien come ogni arbor vien da sue radici.
Vaghe faville, angeliche, beatrici
de la mia vita, ove 'l piacer s'accende
che dolcemente mi consuma et strugge:
come sparisce et fugge
ogni altro lume dove'l vostro splende,
cosí de lo mio core,
quando tanta dolcezza in lui discende,
ogni altra cosa, ogni penser va fore,
et solo ivi con voi rimanse Amore.

Quanta dolcezza unquancho
fu in cor d'aventurosi amanti, accolta
tutta in un loco, a quel ch'i' sento è nulla,
quando voi alcuna volta
soavemente tra 'l bel nero e 'l biancho
volgete il lume in cui Amor si trastulla;
et credo da le fasce et da la culla
al mio imperfecto, a la Fortuna adversa
questo rimedio provedesse il cielo.
Torto mi face il velo
et la man che sí spesso s'atraversa
fra 'l mio sommo dilecto
et gli occhi, onde dí et notte si rinversa
il gran desio per isfogare il petto,
che forma tien dal varïato aspetto.

Perch'io veggio, et mi spiace,
che natural mia dote a me non vale
né mi fa degno d'un sí caro sguardo,
sforzomi d'esser tale
qual a l'alta speranza si conface,
et al foco gentil ond'io tutt'ardo.
S'al ben veloce, et al contrario tardo,
dispregiator di quanto 'l mondo brama
per solicito studio posso farme,
porrebbe forse aitarme
nel benigno iudicio una tal fama:
Certo il fin de' miei pianti,
che non altronde il cor doglioso chiama,
vèn da' begli occhi alfin dolce tremanti,
ultima speme de' cortesi amanti.

Canzon, l'una sorella è poco inanzi,
et l'altra sento in quel medesmo albergo
apparechiarsi; ond'io piú carta vergo.
My gentle lady, I see
a sweet light that streams from your eyes
that shows me the way that leads to Heaven:
and as it is accustomed to,
in there, where I sit alone with Love,
the heart is shining almost visibly.
This is the sight that leads me to do good,
and drives me towards a glorious end,
only by this distinguished from the crowd:
no human tongue could ever
say what those two divine lights
make me feel,
and when winter scatters frost around,
and when after it the year renews
that is the time of my first troubling.

I think: if there are other works
as fine above, where the eternal Mover
of the stars leaned down from to reveal
his labours to the earth,
open the prison where I am confined,
that shuts from me the road to such life.
Then I turn again to my habitual war,
grateful to Nature and the day I was born
for reserving so much good for me,
and she who exalted my heart
with such hopes: for till then I lay
there, a harmful burden to myself,
but from that day was pleasing to myself,
filling with sweet and noble thought
that heart to which lovely eyes hold the key.

There is no joyous state
that Love or fickle Fortune ever granted
to those they loved most in the world,
that I would not exchange
for those eyes' glance, from which there comes
my peace, as a whole tree comes from its root.
Wandering sparks of my life,
angelic, blessed, from which delight takes fire,
that consume me and sweetly destroy me:
as every other light
must flee and vanish before your splendour,
so with my heart,
when such great sweetness descends within,
all other things, all thought must go,
and only Love remains there with you.

Whatever sweetness was ever found
in the hearts of venturesome lovers, gathered
all on one place, is nothing to what I feel,
whenever you turn
the black and white of those lovely eyes,
in which Love so delights, sweetly towards me:
and I believe that from my infant cradle
this was the remedy Heaven sent
for my imperfections, and adverse Fortune.
That veil does me wrong
and that hand which so often comes
between those eyes and my great delight,
so that day and night I pour out
my deep passion to ease my heart,
that takes the form of your varying aspect.

Because I see, and am sad,
that my natural gifts help me little
and make me unworthy of a kindly glance,
I make myself such
as befits my exalted hope,
and the noble fire in which I burn.
If, despising what the world desires,
I can make myself by careful study
swift to good and slow to its contrary,
perhaps benign judgement
will one day bring me fame.
Surely the end of my weeping,
my grieving heart does not hope for from elsewhere,
will come at last from that sweet tremor of lovely eyes
the final hope of courteous lovers.

Song, one sister went a little before you,
and I sense another appearing to me
where I live: so I'll lay out more paper.


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

A Merentha Entertainment Project


PETRARCH LAURA PICTURES WRITINGS BOOKS EVENTS PAPERS SETTINGS FAQs CONTACT