Thanks For A Gift.

Al zucchero, alla mula.


The sugar, candles, and the saddled mule,
        Together with your cask of malvoisie,
        So far exceed all my necessity
        That Michael and not I my debt must rule,
In such a glassy calm the breezes fool
        My sinking sails, so that amid the sea
        My bark hath missed her way, and seems to be
        A wisp of straw whirled on a weltering pool.
To yield thee gift for gift and grace for grace,
        For food and drink and carriage to and fro,
        For all my need in every time and place,
O my dear lord, matched with the much I owe,
        All that I am were no real recompense:
        Paying a debt is not munificence.

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

After The Death Of Vittoria Colonna. Love's Triumph Over Death.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - God Made And God Rules.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - On The Lord'S Prayer. No. I.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

A Prayer For Purification.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

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To Vittoria Colonna. Brazen Gifts For Golden.

Per esser manco almen.


Seeking at least to be not all unfit
        For thy sublime and boundless courtesy,
        My lowly thoughts at first were fain to try
        What they could yield for grace so infinite.
But now I know my unassisted wit
        Is all too weak to make me soar so high;
        For pardon, lady, for this fault I cry,
        And wiser still I grow remembering it.
Yea, well I see what folly 'twere to think
        That largess dropped from thee like dews from heaven
        Could e'er be paid by work so frail as mine!
To nothingness my art and talent sink;
        He fails who from his mortal stores hath given
        A thousandfold to match one gift divine.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

To Luigi Del Riccio.

Nel dolce d' una.


It happens that the sweet unfathomed sea
        Of seeming courtesy sometimes doth hide
        Offence to life and honour. This descried,
        I hold less dear the health restored to me.
He who lends wings of hope, while secretly
        He spreads a traitorous snare by the wayside,
        Hath dulled the flame of love, and mortified
        Friendship where friendship burns most fervently.
Keep then, my dear Luigi, clear and pure
        That ancient love to which my life I owe,
        That neither wind nor storm its calm may mar.
For wrath and pain our gratitude obscure;
        And if the truest truth of love I know,
        One pang outweighs a thousand pleasures far.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

To Vittoria Colonna. A Matchless Courtesy.

Felice spirto.


Blest spirit, who with loving tenderness
        Quickenest my heart so old and near to die,
        Who mid thy joys on me dost bend an eye
        Though many nobler men around thee press!
As thou wert erewhile wont my sight to bless,
        So to console my mind thou now dost fly;
        Hope therefore stills the pangs of memory,
        Which coupled with desire my soul distress.
So finding in thee grace to plead for me--
        Thy thoughts for me sunk in so sad a case--
        He who now writes, returns thee thanks for these.
Lo, it were foul and monstrous usury
        To send thee ugliest paintings in the place
        Of thy fair spirit's living phantasies.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Love's Servitude.

Perhaps To Vittoria Colonna.

S' alcun legato è pur.


He who is bound by some great benefit,
        As to be raised from death to life again,
        How shall he recompense that gift, or gain
        Freedom from servitude so infinite?
Yet if 'twere possible to pay the debt,
        He'd lose that kindness which we entertain
        For those who serve us well; since it is plain
        That kindness needs some boon to quicken it.
Wherefore, O lady, to maintain thy grace,
        So far above my fortune, what I bring
        Is rather thanklessness than courtesy:
For if both met as equals face to face,
        She whom I love could not be called my king;--
        There is no lordship in equality.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Invective Against The People Of Pistoja.

I' l' ho, vostra mercè.


I've gotten it, thanks to your courtesy;
        And I have read it twenty times or so:
        Thus much may your sharp snarling profit you,
        As food our flesh filled to satiety.
After I left you, I could plainly see
        How Cain was of your ancestors: I know
        You do not shame his lineage, for lo,
        Your brother's good still seems your injury.
Envious you are, and proud, and foes to heaven;
        Love of your neighbour still you loathe and hate,
        And only seek what must your ruin be.
If to Pistoja Dante's curse was given,
        Bear that in mind! Enough! But if you prate
        Praises of Florence, 'tis to wheedle me.
                A priceless jewel she:
Doubtless: but this you c...

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