Love

Love (5/7-23/2008).


Dante cannot be imitated,
an ineffable art this our thought,
like an arrow to uncertain missed mark.

My heart could greatly admire it again,
as I devote myself to secret desire,
to sudden error, to gentle mind, it vanished.

And like that’s returning to dreadful sea,
and such praise ever hurts him,
so lover’s ardour is trembling it.

And he’s inflaming on the most desired yoke,
that a pilgrim will be esteemed
a great rhymer and clever and beloved poet.

A sudden sorrow and terrible quickens,
to recalling with his weak mind
a love, which will ever try so it.

And when my eyes gaze on hers,
I saw a woman radiant with beauty,
so that my admiring look ever changes.

And the sun, which embraces all, it know it;
I never saw radiating the most beautiful face,
who so sweetly admires herself again.

And I keep admiring and wandering,
I figure myself into noble love,
and none of bystander could just think it.

I’m imagining a noble remembrance
of gentle love, a pure ardour of one heart,
to my love's thought, the tenson cares.

Sweet and happy beauty, love of my life,
so that I will ever be repentant and wandering,
so that I will ever turn my eyes away from her.

Eternal love, lover of celestial spheres,
nobody wandering man so tried it,
and nothing requites for ardour adding to me.

Avete appena letto la traduzione che ho fatto in inglese, su suggerimento di una poetessa inglese esordiente, della mia poesia "Amor", che ho già inserito in questo forum.