A Daily Countdown to 700 Years with the “colpi d’Amor”
“Benedetto sia ‘l giorno, et ‘l mese, et l’anno, / et la stagione, e’l tempo, et l’ora, e ‘l punto…” — Rvf 61
“Blessed be the day, and the month, and the year, and the season, and the time, and the hour, and the moment…”(Kline).
Più volte Amor m’avea già detto: Scrivi,
scrivi quel che vedesti in lettre d’oro,
sí come i miei seguaci discoloro,
e ‘n un momento gli fo morti et vivi.
Un tempo fu che ‘n te stesso ‘l sentivi,
volgare exemplo a l’amoroso choro;
poi di man mi ti tolse altro lavoro;
ma già ti raggiuns’io mentre fuggivi.
E se ‘begli occhi, ond’io me ti mostrai
et là dov’era il mio dolce ridutto
quando ti ruppi al cor tanta durezza,
mi rendon l’arco ch’ogni cosa spezza,
forse non avrai sempre il viso asciutto:
ch’i’ mi pasco di lagrime, et tu ‘l sai.
How often Love’s already said to me: ‘Write,
write what you’ve seen in letters of gold,
of how I can make my followers turn pale,
and, in the same moment, be alive and dead.
There was a time you felt it yourself,
and were an example to the choir of love:
then other labours snatched you from my hand:
though I still touched you as you fled.
And if the lovely eyes, where I showed myself
to you, and where my sweetness stayed
after I had broken your hard heart,
remake my bow that shatters everything,
perhaps your face won’t always be dry:
for I feed myself on tears, as you know.’