Xlix. _Love's Excuse._ Poem by Michelangelo Buonarroti
Xlix. _Love's Excuse._
Dal dolcie pianto.
From happy tears to woeful smiles, from peace
Eternal to a brief and hollow truce,
How have I fallen!-when 'tis truth we lose,
Sense triumphs o'er all adverse impulses.
I know not if my heart bred this disease,
That still more pleasing grows with growing use;
Or else thy face, thine eyes, which stole the hues
And fires of Paradise-less fair than these.
Thy beauty is no mortal thing; 'twas sent
From heaven on high to make our earth divine:
Wherefore, though wasting, burning, I'm content;
For in thy sight what could I do but pine?
If God himself thus rules my destiny,
Who, when I die, can lay the blame on thee?
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5/10/2024 12:17:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Michelangelo Buonarroti - Rime (XVI secolo) 78. Dal dolce pianto al doloroso riso Dal dolce pianto al doloroso riso, da una etterna a una corta pace caduto son: là dove ’l ver si tace, soprasta ’l senso a quel da lui diviso. Né so se dal mie core o dal tuo viso5 la colpa vien del mal, che men dispiace quante più cresce, o dall’ardente face de gli occhi tuo rubati al paradiso. La tuo beltà non è cosa mortale, ma fatta su dal ciel fra noi divina; 10 ond’io perdendo ardendo mi conforto, c’appresso a te non esser posso tale. Se l’arme il ciel del mie morir destina, chi può, s’i’ muoio, dir c’abbiate il torto?