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The Complete Canzoniere: 71. ‘Perchè la vita è breve’

The Complete Canzoniere
71. ‘Perchè la vita è breve’
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table of contents
  1. Title Page
  2. Section I - Poems 1 to 61
  3. Section II - Poems 62 to 122
  4. Section III - Poems 123 to 183
  5. Section IV - Poems 184 to 244
  6. Section V - Poems 245 to 305
  7. Section VI - Poems 306 to 366

71. ‘Perchè la vita è breve’

Because this life is short,

and thought trembles at the high enterprise,

I place little of my trust in either:

but hope that the sorrow

I cry silently might be accepted

where I long for, and where it ought to be.

Lovely eyes where Love has made his nest,

I direct my weak verse towards you,

of itself slow, but spurred by great delight:

and he who speaks of you

takes a noble subject as his theme,

which lifts him on loving wings

far from all base thought.

Now on these wings I fly to speak

of what I’ve long carried hidden in my heart.

Not that I’m blind

as to how my praise might harm you:

but my great passion cannot be opposed,

that which was born in me

when I saw that which is beyond all thought

beyond what others have spoken, or myself.

This cause of my sweet bitter state

none can understand as well as you.

When I melt like snow in the hot sun,

your gentle disdain

is perhaps because my unworthiness offends.

Oh, if that fear

did not quench the flame where I burn,

how blessed I’d be! For in your presence

it’s sweeter to die than live without you.

While I am not consumed

so frail an object in so fierce a fire,

it’s not true worth that prevents my ruin

but a little touch of fear,

that chills the errant blood in my veins,

restoring the heart so that it burns longer.

O hills, O Valleys, O rivers, O woods, O fields,

O witnesses to my hard life,

how many times have you heard me call for death!

Ah wretched fate

staying destroys me, and fleeing is no help.

But if a greater fear

did not restrain me, a short swift way

would bring this harsh bitter pain to an end:

and the blame would be hers who does not care.

Sadness why do you lead me

out of my path, to say what I do not wish.

Allow me to go where it pleases me to go.

I don’t complain of you

eyes, bright beyond what is mortal,

nor of him who tied me in this knot.

You see what colours Love often likes to paint

in the midst of my features,

and can imagine what he does inside,

where he stands over me night and day

with the power he gathered from you,

blessed and happy lights,

except that you cannot turn to see yourselves:

though as often as you turn again to me,

you see what you are in another.

If you could only see

the divine, unbelievable beauty

that I speak of, as those who gaze can,

immeasurable happiness

would fill your heart: perhaps its natural power

is kept remote from you to spare you.

Blessed is the soul that sighs for you

heavenly lights, so that I give thanks for life

that otherwise is worthless!

Alas, why do you so rarely

grant me what does not sate me?

Why do you not more often

consider how Love wastes me?

And why do you immediately rob me

of the good that now and then my spirit feels?

I say from time to time

through your pity, I feel

a strange new sweetness in my soul,

that clears my dead weight

of harmful thoughts, so that

of a thousand only one is left:

that is alone enough to live in joy.

And if this good could stay a while

no state would be equal to mine:

though such honour maybe

would make others envious, and me proud.

Alas, that must be why

sorrow attacks laughter in the end,

and why I interrupt that burning rapture

to return to myself, and think of myself again.

The loving thought

that lives within, is revealed to me in you,

such that it draws away all other joy:

then words and deeds

arise in me so that I hope I might

be made immortal, though the flesh dies.

Anguish and pain flee at your appearance,

and meet again in me when you depart.

But since my loving memory

prevents them entering

they do not sink beyond the surface:

so that if good fruit at times

is born of me, the seed’s first sown by you:

I’m an almost sterile soil in myself,

but tilled by you, so the praise is all yours.

Song, you do not release me, but stir me

to speak of what tempts me from myself:

therefore be certain not to exist alone.

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72. ‘Gentil mia donna, i’ veggio’
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