Beauty And The Artist.

Al cor di zolfo.


A heart of flaming sulphur, flesh of tow,
        Bones of dry wood, a soul without a guide
        To curb the fiery will, the ruffling pride
        Of fierce desires that from the passions flow;
A sightless mind that weak and lame doth go
        Mid snares and pitfalls scattered far and wide;--
        What wonder if the first chance brand applied
        To fuel massed like this should make it glow?
Add beauteous art, which, brought with us from heaven,
        Will conquer nature;--so divine a power
        Belongs to him who strives with every nerve.
If I was made for art, from childhood given
        A prey for burning beauty to devour,
        I blame the mistress I was born to serve.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni was an Italian sculptor, painter, architect, and poet of the High Renaissance. Born on March 6, 1475, he is widely considered one of the greatest artists of all time. His poetry, although lesser-known compared to his other artistic achievements, displays his deep contemplation of art, love, and spirituality. Michelangelo passed away on February 18, 1564.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

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Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

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Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

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Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

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The Doom Of Beauty.

Spirto ben nato.


Choice soul, in whom, as in a glass, we see,
        Mirrored in thy pure form and delicate,
        What beauties heaven and nature can create,
        The paragon of all their works to be!
Fair soul, in whom love, pity, piety,
        Have found a home, as from thy outward state
        We clearly read, and are so rare and great
        That they adorn none other like to thee!
Love takes me captive; beauty binds my soul;
        Pity and mercy with their gentle eyes
        Wake in my heart a hope that cannot cheat.
What law, what destiny, what fell control,
        What cruelty, or late or soon, denies
        That death should spare perfection so complete?

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Beauty's Intolerable Splendour.

Se 'l foco alla bellezza.


If but the fire that lightens in thine eyes
        Were equal with their beauty, all the snow
        And frost of all the world would melt and glow
        Like brands that blaze beneath fierce tropic skies.
But heaven in mercy to our miseries
        Dulls and divides the fiery beams that flow
        From thy great loveliness, that we may go
        Through this stern mortal life in tranquil wise.
Thus beauty burns not with consuming rage;
        For so much only of the heavenly light
        Inflames our love as finds a fervent heart.
This is my case, lady, in sad old age:
        If seeing thee, I do not die outright,
        'Tis that I feel thy beauty but in part.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Love And Art.

Sì come nella penna.


As pen and ink alike serve him who sings
        In high or low or intermediate style;
        As the same stone hath shapes both rich and vile
        To match the fancies that each master brings;
So, my loved lord, within thy bosom springs
        Pride mixed with meekness and kind thoughts that smile:
        Whence I draw nought, my sad self to beguile,
        But what my face shows--dark imaginings.
He who for seed sows sorrow, tears, and sighs,
        (The dews that fall from heaven, though pure and clear,
        From different germs take divers qualities)
Must needs reap grief and garner weeping eyes;
        And he who looks on beauty with sad cheer,
        Gains doubtful hope and certain miseries.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Artist And His Work.

Com' esser, donna, può.


How can that be, lady, which all men learn
        By long experience? Shapes that seem alive,
        Wrought in hard mountain marble, will survive
        Their maker, whom the years to dust return!
Thus to effect cause yields. Art hath her turn,
        And triumphs over Nature. I, who strive
        With Sculpture, know this well; her wonders live
        In spite of time and death, those tyrants stern.
So I can give long life to both of us
        In either way, by colour or by stone,
        Making the semblance of thy face and mine.
Centuries hence when both are buried, thus
        Thy beauty and my sadness shall be shown,
        And men shall say, 'For her 'twas wise to pine.'

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Lover And The Sculptor.

Non ha l' ottimo artista.


The best of artists hath no thought to show
        Which the rough stone in its superfluous shell
        Doth not include: to break the marble spell
        Is all the hand that serves the brain can do.
The ill I shun, the good I seek, even so
        In thee, fair lady, proud, ineffable,
        Lies hidden: but the art I wield so well
        Works adverse to my wish, and lays me low.
Therefore not love, nor thy transcendent face,
        Nor cruelty, nor fortune, nor disdain,
        Cause my mischance, nor fate, nor destiny;
Since in thy heart thou carriest death and grace
        Enclosed together, and my worthless brain
        Can draw forth only death to feed on me.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Flesh And Spirit.

Ben posson gli occhi.


Well may these eyes of mine both near and far
        Behold the beams that from thy beauty flow;
        But, lady, feet must halt where sight may go:
        We see, but cannot climb to clasp a star.
The pure ethereal soul surmounts that bar
        Of flesh, and soars to where thy splendours glow,
        Free through the eyes; while prisoned here below,
        Though fired with fervent love, our bodies are.
Clogged with mortality and wingless, we
        Cannot pursue an angel in her flight:
        Only to gaze exhausts our utmost might.
Yet, if but heaven like earth incline to thee,
        Let my whole body be one eye to see,
        That not one part of me may miss thy sight!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni