- Donna pietosa e di novella etate
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- Donna pietosa e di novella etate,
- Adorna assai di gentilezze umane,
- Ch’ era là ‘v’io chiamava
spesso Morte, Veggendo li occhi miei pien di pietate
- E ascoltando le parole vane,
5
- Si mosse con paura a pianger forte.
- E altre donne, che si fuoro accorte
- Di me per quella che meco piangia,
- Fecer lei partir via,
- E appressarsi per farmi sentire.
10
- Qual dicea: “Non dormire”.
- E qual dicea: “Perché sì ti
sconforte?”
- Allor lassai la nova fantasia,
- Chiamando il nome de la donna mia.
-
- Era la voce mia sì dolorosa
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- E rotta sì da l’angoscia del pianto,
- Ch’io solo intesi il nome nel mio
core;
- E con tutta la vista vergognosa
- Ch’era nel viso mio giunta cotanto,
- Mi fece verso lor volgere Amore.
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- Elli era tale a veder mio colore,
- Che facea ragionar di morte altrui:
- Deh, consoliam costui ”
- Pregava l’una l’altra umilemente;
- E dicevan sovente:
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- “Che vedestù, che tu non hai valore?
”
- E quando un poco confortato fui,
- Io dissi: “Donne, dicerollo a vui.
-
- Mentr’io pensava la mia frale vita,
- E vedea ‘l suo durar com’è
leggiero,
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- Piansemi Amor nel core, ove dimora;
- Per che l’anima mia fu sì smarrita
- Che sospirando dicea nel pensero:
- Ben converrà che la mia donna mora.—
- Io presi tanto smarrimento allora
35
- Ch’io chiusi li occhi vilmente
gravati,
- E furon sì smagati
- Li spirti miei, che ciascun giva
errando;
- E poscia imaginando,
- Di caunoscenza e di verità fora,
40
- Visi di donne m’apparver crucciati,
- Che mi dicean pur:—Morra’ti, morra’ti.
—
-
- Poi vidi cose dubitose molte
- Nel vano imaginare ov’io entrai;
- Ed esser mi parea non so in qual loco,
45
- E veder donne andar per via disciolte,
- Qual lagrimando, e qual traendo guai
- Che di tristizia saettavan foco.
- Poi mi parve vedere a poco a poco
- Turbar lo sole e apparir la stella,
50
- E pianger elli ed ella;
- Cader li augelli volando per l’are,
- E la terra tremare;
- Ed omo apparve scolorito e fioco,
- Dicendomi:—Che fai? non sai
novella? 55
- Morta è la donna tua, ch’era sì
bella.—
-
- Levava li occhi miei bagnati in pianti,
- E vedea, che parean pioggia di manna,
- Li angeli che tornavan suso in cielo,
- E una nuvoletta avean davanti,
60
- Dopo la qual gridavan tutti: Osanna;
- E s’ altro avesser detto, a voi dire’lo.
- Allor diceva Amor:—Più nol ti celo;
- Vieni a veder nostra donna che giace.—
- Lo imaginar fallace
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- Mi condusse a veder madonna morta;
- E quand’io l’avea scorta,
- Vedea che donne la covrian d’un velo;
- Ed avea seco umilità verace,
- Che parea che dicesse:—Io sono in
pace— 70
-
- Io divenia nel dolor sì umile,
- Veggendo in lei tanta umiltà formata,
- Ch’io dicea:—Morte, assai dolce ti
tegno;
- Tu dèi omai esser cosa gentile,
- Poi che tu se’ ne la mia donna stata,
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- E dèi aver pietate e non disdegno.
- Vedi che sì desideroso vegno
- D’esser de’ tuoi, ch’io ti
somiglio in fede.
- Vieni, chè ‘l cor te chiede.—
- Poi mi partia, consumato ogne duolo;
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- E quand’io era solo,
- Dicea, guardando verso l’alto regno:
- —Beato, anima bella, chi te vede!—
- Voi mi chiamaste allor, vostra merzede”.
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- A Kindly Lady in Her Youthful
Years
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- A kindly lady in her youthful years,
- greatly adorned with human gentleness,
- stood there, where I for Death did often long.
- Seeing my eyes so sadly filled with tears,
- and hearing all my words of emptiness,
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- fearful, she started weeping, loud and strong.
- And other women, when they noticed me
- because of her who wept with me along,
- suddenly bade her go,
- and, to be heard, drew closer to my bed.
10“Oh, sleep no more,” some said;
- some other, “Why your sadness so prolong?”
- Out of my recent vision so I came,
- calling repeatedly my lady’s name.
-
- So was my voice by bitter sobbing
rent,
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- and so by anguish broken every word,
- that her name echoed in my heart alone.
- Yet notwithstanding what was evident—
- shame that had gravely on my face appeared—
- Love bade me turn towards them with a moan.
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- My pallor was so pitifully shown,
- it made all of them think my death was
near.
- “Let’s comfort this man here,”
- they begged each other with humility,
and often said to me,
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- “What did you see, that makes you sad and wan?”
- And after I was somewhat comforted,
- “Ladies, I’ll tell you everything,” I said.
-
- Musing on my frail life with every
thought,
- and seeing how short were its remaining days,
30
- here in my heart—his home—I heard Love cry,
- which made my soul so utterly distraught,
- it soon addressed my mind with all its sighs,
- “My lady, too, my lady, too, will die.”
- Oh, such was at that moment my dismay,
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- I closed my eyes, so heavy and afraid,
- and all my spirits swayed
- so lifeless, each meandered lost and blind.
- ‘Twas then that in my mind,
- straying from truth and knowledge far away,
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- sad women’s faces I beheld convening,
- “You will die! You will die!” all of them keening.
-
- Many a doubtful object then I viewed
- in the strange nightmare that my fancy kept.
- It seemed to me I was I know not where,
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- and ‘long that road I saw a multitude
- of women, who, disheveled, wailed and wept,
- making a flame of sadness round me glare.
- Then, slowly, very slowly in the air,
- I saw the sun and the night-star appear,
50
- shedding a mingled tear;
- I saw birds falling from the firmament,
- and the earth tremble bent;
- and, raucous, pale, a man said then and there,
- “Are you, are you here still? Did you not hear?
55
- Dead is your lady, who was once so fair.”
-
- I lifted then my gaze, which tears had
stained,
- and saw (they looked to me like rain of manna)
- angels returning quickly to their sky,
- borne by a blessed cloudlet, light and faint,
60
- behind which they, as one , sang all “Hosannah!”
- If they had spoken else, oh, so would I.
- “Now I must tell you,” I heard
Love reply;
- “Come! See our lady, lying now so still.”
- That vision brought my will
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- there, where my lovely lady lifeless lay.
- I looked at her, until
- women I saw who wrapped her in a veil:
- there, of such true humility possessed,
- my lady seemed to say, “In peace I rest.”
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- So humble grew I in my misery,
- seeing so much humility on her mien,
- that I said, “Death, I hold you very dear.
- A thing of gentleness you must now be,
- for on my lady you indeed have been,
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- and must now have compassion and no sneer.
- Willingly, see, I come, and without fear,
- into your kingdom, for I look like you.
- Come, to my heart be true!”
- When grief was spent, I moved from there away, 80
- and, when alone I lay,
- I said, still gazing at the lofty sphere,
- “Blessèd, fair soul, those who enjoy your view!”
- was then your voices called me, thanks to you.”
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