From "Visions"

by Francesco Petrarch

From 'Visions'

Being one day at my window all alone,

So manie strange things happened me to see,

As much as it grieveth me to thinke thereon.

At my right hand a hynde appear'd to mee,

So faire as mote the greatest god delite; 

Two eager dogs did her pursue in chace.

Of which the one was blacke, the other white:

With deadly force so in their cruell race

They pincht the haunches of that gentle beast,

That at the last, and in short time, I spide,

Under a rocke, where she alas, opprest,

Fell to the ground, and there untimely dide.

Cruell death vanquishing so noble beautie

Oft makes me wayle so hard a desire.

(Translated by Edmund Spenser) 

‘Non Tesin, Po, Varo, Arno, Adige et Tebro,'

Not Ticino, Po, Varo, Arno, Adige or Tiber

Euphrates, Tigris, Nile, Erno, Indus, or Ganges,

Don, Danube, Alpheus, Garonne, or the breaking sea,

Rhône, Iber, Rhine, Seine, Elbe, Loire, Ebro:

Not ivy, fir, pine, beech, or juniper

could lessen the fire that vexes my sad heart,

as much as the lovely river that always weeps with me,

and the little tree I adorn and praise in verse.

I find they help against the assaults

of Love, while I must live, well-armed,

the life which passes by in such swift leaps.

Let the beautiful laurel grow so, on the green bank,

and let him who planted it, in the sweet shade,

write lofty and joyful thoughts, to the sound of water.

Translated by: A. S. Kline 

‘Chi vuol veder quantunque pò Natura'

Who wishes to see what Nature can achieve

among us, and Heaven, come and gaze at her,

who is the only sun, not only to my eyes,

but to the blind world, that cares nothing about virtue.

And come quickly, since Death takes away

the best ones first, and leaves the worst:

she who is awaited in the kingdom of the gods,

this beautiful mortal thing will not last, but pass away.

He will see, if he arrives in time, every virtue,

every beauty, every royal manner

joined in one body with miraculous blending:

then he will say that all my rhymes are mute,

my skill conquered by excess of light:

but if he comes too late, he will grieve forever.

Translated by: A. S. Kline 

Life flies, and never stays an hour

‘La vita fugge, et non s'arresta una hora,'

Life flies, and never stays an hour,

and death comes on behind with its dark day,

and present things and past things

embattle me, and future things as well:

and remembrance and expectation grip my heart,

now on this side, now on that, so that in truth,

if I did not take pity on myself,

I would have freed myself already from all thought.

A sweetness that the sad heart knew

returns to me: yet from another quarter

I see the storm-winds rattling my sails:

I see no chance of harbour, and my helmsman

is weary now, and my masts and ropes are broken,

and the beautiful stars, I used to gaze on, quenched.

Translated by: A. S. Kline