Francesco Petrarch

(1304-1374 / Arezzo, Italy)

Francesco Petrarch
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Francesco Petrarca (Italian pronunciation: [franˈtʃesko peˈtrarka]; July 20, 1304 – July 19, 1374), commonly anglicized as Petrarch (/ˈpiːtrɑːrk, ˈpɛtrɑːrk/), was an Italian scholar and poet in Renaissance Italy, and one of the earliest humanists. Petrarch's rediscovery of Cicero's letters is often credited for initiating the 14th-century Renaissance. Petrarch is often called the "Father of Humanism". In the 16th century, Pietro Bembo created the model for the modern Italian language based on Petrarch's works, as well as those of Giovanni Boccaccio, and, to a lesser extent, Dante Alighieri. Petrarch would be later endorsed as a model for Italian style by the Accademia della Crusca.... more »

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  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (10/13/2015 8:45:00 AM)

    and the original text of Petrarch's sonnet CCCX:

    Zephiro torna, e ’l bel tempo rimena,
    e i fiori et l’erbe, sua dolce famiglia,
    et garrir Progne et pianger Philomena,
    et primavera candida et vermiglia.

    Ridono i prati, e ’l ciel si rasserena;
    Giove s’allegra di mirar sua figlia;
    l’aria et l’acqua et la terra è d’amor piena;
    ogni animal d’amar si riconsiglia.

    Ma per me, lasso, tornano i piú gravi
    sospiri, che del cor profondo tragge
    quella ch’al ciel se ne portò le chiavi;

    et cantar augelletti, et fiorir piagge,
    e ’n belle donne honeste atti soavi
    sono un deserto, et fere aspre et selvagge.

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (10/13/2015 8:44:00 AM)

    here is one of Petrarch's sonnet - CCCX:

    Zephyrus returns, and brings clear weather,
    and flowers and grasses, the whole sweet family,
    and Procne’s quarrelsome call, and Philomel’s weeping,
    and spring’s white and vermilion.
    The meadows exult and the skies turn serene,
    Jove’s happy to see daughter Venus,
    air and water and earth, all full of love,
    every animal reconciles itself again to loving.
    For me, though, alas! the weightiest sighs
    return, drawing up out of my heart’s deeps
    the one who’d owned the keys to heaven.
    And singing of little birds and flowering fields,
    the pretty girls act perfectly disgraceful
    like in a desert, like bitter and savage beasts.

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Best Poem of Francesco Petrarch

I go weeping for my time past,

‘I'vo piagendo i miei passati tempi'

I go weeping for my time past,
that I spent in loving something mortal,
without lifting myself in flight, for I had wings
that might have freed me for spaces not so low.
You who see my shameful and impious sins,
King of Heaven, invisible, immortal,
help this frail and straying soul,
and mend its defects through your grace:
So that, if I have lived in war and tempest,
I may die in peaceful harbour: and if my stay
was vain, let my vanishing, at least, be virtuous.
Deign that your hand might rest on that little ...

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