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I did find, with some difficulty, the Italian original of Michelangelo's in
my own copy of the poems. It's numbered 90 in the series and seems to be
somewhat different, in certain ways, to Wordsworth's translation, noticeably
that it is believed to be to Tommaso Cavalieri. Anyhow, here's the Italian,
though without accents, as my e-mailer is tricky with those in plain text,
and a simple prose paraphrase appended.

Best

Dave

   Ben puo talor col mie 'rdente desio
salir la speme e non esse fallace,
che s'ogni nostro affetto al dispiace,
a che fin fatto arebbe il mondo Iddio?
   Qual piu gusta cagion dell'amart'io
e, che dar gloria a quella eterna pace
onde pende il divin che di te piace,
e c'ogni cor gentil fa casto e pio?
   Fallace speme ha sol l'amor che muore
con la belta c'ogni momentp scema,
ond'e suggetta al variar d'un bel viso.
   Dolce e ben quella in un pudico core,
che per cangiar di scorza o d'ora strema
non manca, e qui caparra il paradiso.



Hope can indeed at times ascend on high with my burning desire and not prove
false, for if all our emotions were displeasing to heaven, to what end would
God have made the world?

What juster reason for my loving you can there be, than to give glory to
that eternal peace from which derives the divine element in you that brings
pleasure, and that makes every noble heart pure and devout?

False hope is harboured only by that love which dies with the beauty that is
worn away by each passing minute, and so is subject to the variation wrought
in a beautiful face.

Sweet indeed is the hope found in a chaste heart: it does not fall because
of the changes caused in the husk or brought by the final hour, and here
below is a pledge of paradise.

(probably from 1546, when Michelangelo was 71)



David Bircumshaw

Leicester, England

Home Page

A Chide's Alphabet

Painting Without Numbers

http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/index.htm
----- Original Message -----
From: "Anny Ballardini" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Wednesday, January 01, 2003 9:43 AM
Subject: Re: Say a poem - Michelangelo


i first got in contact with Michelangelo's poems when i was a librarian - by
now a decade ago - and a very old thin and austere lady asked me please to
find them, which i had to enlarge since she could not read the small
characters. i never thought of the artist as a poet and this poem is maybe
one of his best. i am sorry i don't have any copies here, but if someone is
interested in the italian version, i can quickly go to the library and look
for it.

anyhow here i found his rimes:
http://www.nuovorinascimento.org/n-rinasc/testi/ascii/buonarrv/rime.txt

anny

----- Original Message -----
From: "Jon Corelis" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Tuesday, December 31, 2002 6:34 PM
Subject: Re: Say a poem


> I've always counted the poem below as interesting for a number of reasons:
> how good a poet the great artist must have been (I assume the quality of
the
> original shines through, since my Italian is at the phrase-book level,)
how
> good a translator Wordsworth unexpectedly is, how unlike Wordsworth the
poem
> is (I myself like it better than any of his original verse that I've
read,)
> and for a tone, very rare in  English-language poetry, which combines
> intellectual subtlety, rhetorical elegance, and erotic passion into a
> statement of intense clarity.  I couldn't find the original on the net so
if
> you want to see the Italian you'll probably have to find an actual book
made
> of paper.
>
>
> --------------------------------------------------
>
>
> To the Marchesana of Pescara
>
>
> Yes! hope may with my strong desire keep pace,
> And I be undeluded, unbetray'd;
> For if of our affections none find grace
> In sight of Heaven, then, wherefore hath God made
> The world which we inhabit? Better plea
> Love cannot have, than that in loving thee
> Glory to that eternal Peace is paid,
> Who such Divinity to thee imparts
> As hallows and makes pure all gentle hearts.
> His hope is treacherous only whose love dies
> With beauty, which is varying every hour;
> But, in chaste hearts, uninfluenced by the power
> Of outward change, there blooms a deathless flower,
> That breathes on earth the air of paradise.
>
>
>      -- translated from the Italian of
>         Michelangelo Buonarotti by William Wordsworth
>
>
>
> ==================================================
>
> Jon Corelis        [log in to unmask]
> www.geocities.com/joncpoetics
>
> ==================================================
>
>
>
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