Heaven-Born Beauty. First Reading.

Per ritornar là.


As one who will reseek her home of light,
        Thy form immortal to this prison-house
        Descended, like an angel piteous,
        To heal all hearts and make the whole world bright.
'Tis this that thralls my soul in love's delight,
        Not thy clear face of beauty glorious;
        For he who harbours virtue, still will choose
        To love what neither years nor death can blight.
So fares it ever with things high and rare
        Wrought in the sweat of nature; heaven above
        Showers on their birth the blessings of her prime:
Nor hath God deigned to show Himself elsewhere
        More clearly than in human forms sublime;
        Which, since they image Him, alone I love.

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

To Giorgio Vasari. On The Brink Of Death.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

To Giorgio Vasari. On The Lives Of The Painters.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

Love's Paradoxes.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

Sacred Night.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

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Heaven-Born Beauty. Second Reading.

Venne, non so ben donde.


It came, I know not whence, from far above,
        That clear immortal flame that still doth rise
        Within thy sacred breast, and fills the skies,
        And heals all hearts, and adds to heaven new love.
This burns me, this, and the pure light thereof;
        Not thy fair face, thy sweet untroubled eyes:
        For love that is not love for aught that dies,
        Dwells in the soul where no base passions move.
If then such loveliness upon its own
        Should graft new beauties in a mortal birth,
        The sheath bespeaks the shining blade within.
To gain our love God hath not clearer shown
        Himself elsewhere: thus heaven doth vie with earth
        To make thee worthy worship without sin.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Heavenly Birth Of Love And Beauty.

La vita del mie amor.


This heart of flesh feeds not with life my love:
        The love wherewith I love thee hath no heart;
        Nor harbours it in any mortal part,
        Where erring thought or ill desire may move.
When first Love sent our souls from God above,
        He fashioned me to see thee as thou art--
        Pure light; and thus I find God's counterpart
        In thy fair face, and feel the sting thereof.
As heat from fire, from loveliness divine
        The mind that worships what recalls the sun
        From whence she sprang, can be divided never:
And since thine eyes all Paradise enshrine,
        Burning unto those orbs of light I run,
        There where I loved thee first to dwell for ever.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Carnal And Spiritual Love. First Reading.

Passa per gli occhi.


Swift through the eyes unto the heart within
        All lovely forms that thrall our spirit stray;
        So smooth and broad and open is the way
        That thousands and not hundreds enter in.
Burdened with scruples and weighed down with sin,
        These mortal beauties fill me with dismay;
        Nor find I one that doth not strive to stay
        My soul on transient joy, or lets me win
The heaven I yearn for. Lo, when erring love--
        Who fills the world, howe'er his power we shun,
        Else were the world a grave and we undone--
Assails the soul, if grace refuse to fan
        Our purged desires and make them soar above,
        What grief it were to have been born a man!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

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

Celestial Love.

Non vider gli occhi miei.


I saw no mortal beauty with these eyes
        When perfect peace in thy fair eyes I found;
        But far within, where all is holy ground,
        My soul felt Love, her comrade of the skies:
For she was born with God in Paradise;
        Else should we still to transient loves be bound;
        But, finding these so false, we pass beyond
        Unto the Love of Loves that never dies.
Nay, things that die, cannot assuage the thirst
        Of souls undying; nor Eternity
        Serves Time, where all must fade that flourisheth.
Sense is not love, but lawlessness accurst:
        This kills the soul; while our love lifts on high
        Our friends on earth--higher in heaven through death.

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