Sonnet 164
By Petrarch
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Now at the hush of wind and earth and sky,
Sleep bridles beasts and holds the birds aground,
Night drives her star-lined chariot on its round,
And, waveless, seas lie bedded, only I
Still see and think and burn and rave and fret.
My bringer of sweet pain undoes me more.
In rage and tears, mine is a state of war
And thoughts of Her are all the peace I get.
Thus drink I sweet and bitter draughts that flow
Forth from a single, living fountain's spray.
One single hand both heals and deals each blow.
To keep my ship of martyrdom at sea
Have I a thousand births and deaths a day.
So far is my salvation's port from me.
The Original:
Sonetto CLXIV
Francesco Petrarca
Or che ‘l cielo e la terra e ‘l vento tace,
e le fere e gli augelli il sonno affrena,
notte il carro stellato in giro mena,
e nel suo letto il mar senz’ onda giace;
vegghio, penso, ardo, piango, e chi mi sface
sempre m’è innanzi per mia dolce pena;
guerra è ‘l mio stato, d’ira e di duol piena,
e sol di lei pensando ho qualche pace.
Così sol d’una chiara fonte viva
move ‘l dolce e l’amaro ond’ io mi pasco;
una man sola mi risana e punge.
E perchè ‘l mio martìr non giunga a riva,
mille volte il dì moro mille nasco;
tanto da la salute mia son lunge.
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