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).
Del mar Tirreno a la sinistra riva,
dove rotte dal vento piangon l’onde,
súbito vidi quella altera fronde
di cui conven che ‘n tante carte scriva.
Amor, che dentro a l’anima bolliva,
per rimembranza de le treccie bionde
mi spinse, onde in un rio che l’erba asconde
caddi, non già come persona viva.
Solo ov’io era tra boschetti et colli
vergogna ebbi di me, ch’al cor gentile
basta ben tanto, et altro spron non volli.
Piacemi almen d’aver cangiato stile
da gli occhi a’ pie’, se del lor esser molli
gli altri asciugasse un piú cortese aprile.
On the left shore of the Tyrrhenian Sea,
where the waves weep, broken by the wind,
I suddenly glimpsed the noble leaves
that force me to write so many pages.
Love that was seething in my spirit
through remembering that golden hair,
pushed me so I fell, as if no longer living,
into a stream hidden in the grass.
Alone though I was among the woods and hills,
shame was with me, for the gentle heart
is enough in itself, and needs no other spur.
I’m at least glad to have changed my tale
from eyes to feet, since if these are made wet
the others are dried by a more courteous April.