Music: Canzoni Del Cuore E Dei Tempi

Sonetto I

Sonnet 1  

Voi ch’ascoltate in rime sparse il suono di quei sospiri ond’io nudriva ‘l core in sul mio primo giovenile errore quand’era in parte altr’uom da quel ch’i’ sono,

del vario stile in ch’io piango et ragiono fra le vane speranze e ‘l van dolore, ove sia chi per prova intenda amore, spero trovar pietà, nonché perdono.

Ma ben veggio or sí come al popol tutto favola fui gran tempo, onde sovente di me mesdesmo meco mi vergogno;

et del mio vaneggiar vergogna è ‘l frutto, e ‘l pentersi, e ‘l conoscer chiaramente che quanto piace al mondo è breve sogno.

You who hear the sound, in scattered rhymes, of those sighs on which I fed my heart, in my first vagrant youthfulness, when I was partly other than I am,

I hope to find pity, and forgiveness, for all the modes in which I talk and weep, between vain hope and vain sadness, in those who understand love through its trials.

Yet I see clearly now I have become an old tale amongst all these people, so that it often makes me ashamed of myself;

and shame is the fruit of my vanities, and remorse, and the clearest knowledge of how the world’s delight is a brief dream.

Aura che quelle chiome bionde et crespe cercondi et movi, et se’ mossa da loro, soavemente, et spargi quel dolce oro, et poi ‘l raccogli, e ‘n bei nodi il rincrespe, tu stai nelli occhi ond’amorose vespe mi pungon sí, che ‘nfin qua il sento et ploro, et vacillando cerco il mio thesoro, come animal che spesso adombre e ‘ncespe: ch’or me ‘l par ritrovar, et or m’accorgo ch’i’ ne son lunge, or mi sollievo or caggio, ch’or quel ch’i’ bramo, or quel ch’è vero scorgo. Aër felice, col bel vivo raggio rimanti; et tu corrente et chiaro gorgo, ché non poss’io cangiar teco vïaggio?

Breeze, blowing that blonde curling hair, stirring it, and being softly stirred in turn, scattering that sweet gold about, then gathering it, in a lovely knot of curls again, you linger around bright eyes whose loving sting pierces me so, till I feel it and weep, and I wander searching for my treasure, like a creature that often shies and kicks: now I seem to find her, now I realise she’s far away, now I’m comforted, now despair, now longing for her, now truly seeing her. Happy air, remain here with your living rays: and you, clear running stream, why can’t I exchange my path for yours?

Sonetto CV

Sonnet 105

In silentio parole accorte et sagge, e ‘l suon che mi sottragge ogni altra cura, et la pregione oscura ov’è ‘l bel lume; le nocturne vïole per le piagge, et le le fere selvagge entr’a le mura, et la dolce paura, e ‘l bel costume, et di duo fonti un fiume in pace vòlto dov’io bramo, et raccolto ove che sia: Amor et Gelosia m’ànno il cor tolto, e i segni del bel volto che mi conducon per piú piana via a la speranza mia, al fin degli affanni. O riposto mio bene, et quel che segue, or pace or guerra or triegue, mai non m’abbandonate in questi panni.

De’ passati miei danni piango et rido, perché molto mi fido in quel ch’i’ odo. Del presente mi godo, et meglio aspetto, et vo contando gli anni, et taccio et grido. E ‘n bel ramo m’annido, et in tal modo ch’i’ ne ringratio et lodo il gran disdetto che l’indurato affecto alfine à vinto, et ne l’alma depinto “I sare’ udito, et mostratone a dito”, et ànne extinto (tanto inanzi son pinto, ch’i’ ‘l pur dirò) “Non fostú tant’ardito”: chi m’à ‘l fianco ferito, et chi ‘l risalda, per cui nel cor via piú che ‘n carta scrivo; chi mi fa morto et vivo, chi ‘n un punto m’agghiaccia et mi riscalda.

Shrewd and wise words in silence, the sound that takes away all my cares, a dark prison where there is much light: violets at night along the shore, wild beasts inside the walls, sweet fear, and lovely custom, a stream that flows in peace from two springs, where I yearned, and gathered where I was: Love and Jealousy have snatched my heart, and the signs of that sweet face that lead me on along a smoother path towards my hope, and an end to trouble. O my good returned, and all that follows, now peace, now war, now truce, but don’t abandon me in mortal dress.

I laugh and weep at all my torments past, since I have so much faith in what I hear. I like the present, and expect much better, and go counting the years, and mute and crying. I nest on a sweet branch, in such a way that I can thank and praise the great refusal that conquered the deep feeling at last, and carved on my soul: ‘I would be heard, and known for speaking’, and has erased (the urge is so strong I have to speak) ‘You weren’t bold enough’: I write inside my heart more than on paper for her who hurt my heart and then healed it: for her who made me die and live, who in a moment freezes me and warms me.

Sonetto CXXVI

Sonnet 126

Chiare, fresche et dolci acque, ove le belle membra pose colei che sola a me par donna; gentil ramo ove piacque (con sospir’ mi rimembra) a lei di fare al bel fiancho colonna; herba et fior’ che la gonna leggiadra ricoverse co l’angelico seno; aere sacro, sereno, ove Amor co’ begli occhi il cor m’aperse: date udïenza insieme a le dolenti mie parole extreme. S’egli è pur mio destino e ‘l cielo in ciò s’adopra, ch’Amor quest’occhi lagrimando chiuda, qualche gratia il meschino corpo fra voi ricopra, et torni l’alma al proprio albergo ignuda. La morte fia men cruda se questa spene porto a quel dubbioso passo: ché lo spirito lasso non poria mai in piú riposato porto né in piú tranquilla fossa fuggir la carne travagliata et l’ossa. Tempo verrà anchor forse ch’a l’usato soggiorno torni la fera bella et mansüeta, et là ‘v’ella mi scorse nel benedetto giorno, volga la vista disïosa et lieta, cercandomi; et, o pietà!, già terra in fra le pietre vedendo, Amor l’inspiri in guisa che sospiri sí dolcemente che mercé m’impetre, et faccia forza al cielo, asciugandosi gli occhi col bel velo. Da’ be’ rami scendea (dolce ne la memoria) una pioggia di fior’ sovra ‘l suo grembo; et ella si sedea humile in tanta gloria, coverta già de l’amoroso nembo. Qual fior cadea sul lembo, qual su le treccie bionde, ch’oro forbito et perle eran quel dí a vederle; qual si posava in terra, et qual su l’onde; qual con un vago errore girando parea dir: – Qui regna Amore. – Quante volte diss’io allor pien di spavento: Costei per fermo nacque in paradiso. Cosí carco d’oblio il divin portamento e ‘l volto e le parole e ‘l dolce riso m’aveano, et sí diviso da l’imagine vera, ch’i’ dicea sospirando: Qui come venn’io, o quando?; credendo d’esser in ciel, non là dov’era. Da indi in qua mi piace questa herba sí, ch’altrove non ò pace. Se tu avessi ornamenti quant’ài voglia, poresti arditamente uscir del boscho, et gir in fra la gente.

Clear, sweet fresh water where she, the only one who seemed woman to me, rested her beautiful limbs: gentle branch where it pleased her (with sighs, I remember it) to make a pillar for her lovely flank: grass and flowers which her dress lightly covered, as it did the angelic breast: serene, and sacred air, where Love pierced my heart with eyes of beauty: listen together to my last sad words. If it is my destiny and heaven works towards this, that Love should close these weeping eyes, let some grace bury my poor body amongst you, and the soul return naked to its place. Death would be less cruel if I could bear this hope to the uncertain crossing: since the weary spirit could never in a more gentle harbour, or in a quieter grave, leave behind its troubled flesh and bone. Perhaps another time will come, when the beautiful, wild, and gentle one will return to this accustomed place, and here where she glanced at me on that blessed day may turn her face yearning and joyful, to find me: and, oh pity!, seeing me already earth among the stones, Love will inspire her in a manner such that she will sigh so sweetly she will obtain mercy for me, and have power in heaven, drying her eyes with her lovely veil. A rain of flowers descended (sweet in the memory) from the beautiful branches into her lap, and she sat there humble amongst such glory, covered now by the loving shower. A flower fell on her hem, one in her braided blonde hair, that was seen on that day to be like chased gold and pearl: one rested on the ground, and one in the water, and one, in wandering vagary, twirling, seemed to say: ‘Here Love rules’. Then, full of apprehension, how often I said: ‘For certain she was born in Paradise.’ Her divine bearing and her face, her speech, her sweet smile captured me, and so separated me, from true thought that I would say, sighing: ‘How did I come here, and when?’ believing I was in heaven, not there where I was. Since then this grass has so pleased me, nowhere else do I find peace. Song, if you had as much beauty as you wished, you could boldly leave this wood, and go among people.

Sonetto CXXXII

Sonnet 132

S’amor non è, che dunque è quel ch’io sento? Ma s’egli è amor, perdio, che cosa et quale? Se bona, onde l’effecto aspro mortale? Se ria, onde sí dolce ogni tormento? S’a mia voglia ardo, onde ‘l pianto e lamento? S’a mal mio grado, il lamentar che vale? O viva morte, o dilectoso male, come puoi tanto in me, s’io no ‘l consento? Et s’io ‘l consento, a gran torto mi doglio. Fra sí contrari vènti in frale barca mi trovo in alto mar senza governo, sí lieve di saver, d’error sí carca ch’i’ medesmo non so quel ch’io mi voglio, et tremo a mezza state, ardendo il verno.

What do I feel if this is not love? But if it is love, God, what thing is this? If good, why this effect: bitter, mortal? If bad, then why is every suffering sweet? If I desire to burn, why tears and grief? If my state’s evil, what’s the use of grieving? O living death, O delightful evil, how can you be in me so, if I do not consent? And if I consent, I am greatly wrong in sorrowing. Among conflicting winds in a frail boat I find myself on the deep sea without a helm, so light in knowledge, so laden with error, that I do not know what I wish myself, and tremble in midsummer, burn in winter.

Sonetto CLVI

Sonnet 156

I’ vidi in terra angelici costumi et celesti bellezze al mondo sole, tal che di rimembrar mi giova et dole, ché quant’io miro par sogni, ombre et fumi; et vidi lagrimar que’ duo bei lumi, ch’àn fatto mille volte invidia al sole; et udí’ sospirando dir parole che farian gire i monti et stare i fiumi. Amor, Senno, Valor, Pietate, et Doglia facean piangendo un piú dolce concento d’ogni altro che nel mondo udir si soglia; ed era il cielo a l’armonia sí intento che non se vedea in ramo mover foglia, tanta dolcezza avea pien l’aere e ‘l vento.

I saw angelic virtue on earth and heavenly beauty on terrestrial soil, so I am sad and joyful at the memory, and what I see seems dream, shadows, smoke: and I saw two lovely eyes that wept, that made the sun a thousand times jealous: and I heard words emerge among sighs that made the mountains move, and halted rivers. Love, Judgement, Pity, Worth and Grief, made a sweeter chorus of weeping than any other heard beneath the moon: and heaven so intent upon the harmony no leaf was seen to move on the boughs, so filled with sweetness were the wind and air.

Sonetto CLXXXIX

Sonnet 189

Passa la nave mia colma d’oblio per aspro mare, a mezza notte il verno, enfra Scilla et Caribdi; et al governo siede ‘l signore, anzi ‘l nimico mio. A ciascun remo un penser pronto et rio che la tempesta e ‘l fin par ch’abbi a scherno; la vela rompe un vento humido eterno di sospir’, di speranze, et di desio. Pioggia di lagrimar, nebbia di sdegni bagna et rallenta le già stanche sarte, che son d’error con ignorantia attorto. Celansi i duo mei dolci usati segni; morta fra l’onde è la ragion et l’arte, tal ch’incomincio a desperar del porto.

My ship, full of oblivion, sails on a bitter sea, at winter’s midnight, between Scylla and Charybdis: at the helm sits that Lord, or rather my enemy. At each oar there’s a cruel eager thought, that scorns the tempest and its end: the sail’s torn by an eternal moist wind of sighs, of hopes, and of desire. A rain of tears, a mist of disdain drench and slacken the already tired shrouds, woven from error and ignorance. My two usual guiding lights are so hidden: reason and art so drowned by the waves, that I begin to despair of finding harbour.