24. ‘Se l’onorata fronde che prescrive’

heaven’s anger when great Jupiter thunders

had not refused me its laurel crown

which usually wreathes those who write poetry,

I would be a friend of those Muses of yours

that this unworthy age has abandoned:

but that injustice keeps me far from

Minerva who first gave us olive trees:

for the sands of Ethiopia could not burn

hotter under the burning sun than I blaze

at losing a thing so beloved, as my own.

Search out a steadier fount than mine,

which only wells in an impoverished stream,

except for that which distils from my tears.

Note: A reply to a poem from Andrea Stramazzo da Perugia, asking for verses.

Notes