Andare, Partire, Tornare ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- a canzone and a sonnet Petrarch: Blessed may be the day, the month, the year,And the season, the time, the hour, the point, And the country, the place where I was joined By two fair eyes that now have tied me here. And blessed be the first sweet agony That I felt in becoming bound to Love, And the bow and the arrows piercing me, And the wounds that go down so deep to move Blessed the many voices that I raised, Calling my lady, to scatter her name, And blessed be my tears, my sighs, my heart; Blessed may be the paper where more fame I earn for her, my thought by which she is praised, Only her own: no one else has a part.Broken the column and the green bay tree That lent a shade to my exhausted thought; And I have lost what can nowhere be sought In any distant wind or distant sea. You took away from me my double treasure, Death, which had made my life proud and secure; What neither earth nor kingdom can allure, Nor oriental gem, nor golden measure. But if to accept this is destiny, What can I do but wear eyes wet with sad soul and a face shut to all views? O life that are so beautiful to see, How quickly in one morning do we lose What we gained with great pain in many years! 5:36 p.m. - 2003-04-19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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