Lxiv. After The Death Of Vittoria Colonna. Poem by Michelangelo Buonarroti
Lxiv. After The Death Of Vittoria Colonna.
A WASTED BRAND.
Qual maraviglia è.
If being near the fire I burned with it,
Now that its flame is quenched and doth not show,
What wonder if I waste within and glow,
Dwindling away to cinders bit by bit?
While still it burned, I saw so brightly lit
That splendour whence I drew my grievous woe,
That from its sight alone could pleasure flow,
And death and torment both seemed exquisite.
But now that heaven hath robbed me of the blaze
Of that great fire which burned and nourished me,
A coal that smoulders 'neath the ash am I.
Unless Love furnish wood fresh flames to raise,
I shall expire with not one spark to see,
So quickly into embers do I die!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
5/24/2024 10:15:55 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Michelangelo Buonarroti - Rime 266. Qual meraviglia è, se prossim'al foco Qual meraviglia è, se prossim’al foco mi strussi e arsi, se or ch’egli è spento di fuor, m’affligge e mi consuma drento, e ’n cener mi riduce a poco a poco? Vedea ardendo sì lucente il loco5 onde pendea il mio greve tormento, che sol la vista mi facea contento, e morte e strazi m’eran festa e gioco. Ma po’ che del gran foco lo splendore che m’ardeva e nutriva, il ciel m’invola,10 un carbon resto acceso e ricoperto. E s’altre legne non mi porge amore che lievin fiamma, una favilla sola non fie di me, sì ’n cener mi converto.