The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Philosopher.

Gran fortuna è 'l saper.


Wisdom is riches great and great estate,
        Far above wealth; nor are the wise unblest
        If born of lineage vile or race oppressed:
        These by their doom sublime they illustrate.

They have their griefs for guerdon, to dilate
        Their name and glory; nay, the cross, the sword
        Make them to be like saints or God adored;
        And gladness greets them in the frowns of fate:

For joys and sorrows are their dear delight;
        Even as a lover takes the weal and woe
        Felt for his lady. Such is wisdom's might.

But wealth still vexes fools; more vile they grow
        By being noble; and their luckless light
        With each new misadventure burns more low.

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

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Proem.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Doom Of Beauty.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

Waiting For Death.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Year 1603.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

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The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - To The Poets.

In superbia il valor.


Valour to pride hath turned; grave holiness
        To vile hypocrisy; all gentle ways
        To empty forms; sound sense to idle lays;
        Pure love to heat; beauty to paint and dress:--
Thanks to you, Poets! you who sing the praise
        Of fabled knights, foul fires, lies, nullities;
        Not virtue, nor the wrapped sublimities
        Of God, as bards were wont in those old days.
How far more wondrous than your phantasies
        Are Nature's works, how far more sweet to sing!
        Thus taught, the soul falsehood and truth descries.
That tale alone is worth the pondering,
        Which hath not smothered history in lies,
        And arms the soul against each sinful thing.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Sage On Earth.

Sciolto e legato.


Bound and yet free, companioned and alone,
        Loud mid my silence, I confound my foes:
        Men think me fool in this vile world of woes;
        God's wisdom greets me sage from heaven's high throne.
With wings on earth oppressed aloft I bound;
        My gleeful soul sad bonds of flesh enclose:
        And though sometimes too great the burden grows,
        These pinions bear me upward from the ground.
A doubtful combat proves the warrior's might:
        Short is all time matched with eternity:
        Nought than a pleasing burden is more light.
My brows I bind with my love's effigy,
        Sure that my joyous flight will soon be sped
        Where without speech my thoughts shall all be read.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - A Parable Of Wise Men And The World.

Gli astrologi antevista.


Once on a time the astronomers foresaw
        The coming of a star to madden men:
        Thus warned they fled the land, thinking that when
        The folk were crazed, they'd hold the reins of law

When they returned the realm to overawe,
        They prayed those maniacs to quit cave and den,
        And use their old good customs once again;
        But these made answer with fist, tooth, and claw:

So that the wise men were obliged to rule
        Themselves like lunatics to shun grim death,
        Seeing the biggest maniac now was king.

Stifling their sense, they lived, aping the fool,
        In public praising act and word and thing
        Just as the whims of madmen swayed their breath.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - Love Of Self And God.

Questo amor singolar.


This love of self sinks man in sinful sloth:
        Yet, if he seek to live, he needs must feign
        Sense, goodness, courage. Thus he dwells in pain,
        A sphinx, twy-souled, a false self-stunted growth.
Honours, applause, and wealth these torments soothe;
        Till jealousy, contrasting his foul stain
        With virtues eminent, by spur and rein
        Drives him to slay, steal, poison, break his oath.
But he who loves our common Father, hath
        All men for brothers, and with God doth joy
        In whatsoever worketh for their bliss.
Good Francis called the birds upon his path
        Brethren; to him the fishes were not coy.--
        Oh, blest is he who comprehendeth this!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Proem.

Io che nacqui dal Senno.


Born of God's Wisdom and Philosophy,
        Keen lover of true beauty and true good,
        I call the vain self-traitorous multitude
        Back to my mother's milk; for it is she,
Faithful to God her spouse, who nourished me,
        Making me quick and active to intrude
        Within the inmost veil, where I have viewed
        And handled all things in eternity.
If the whole world's our home where we may run,
        Up, friends, forsake those secondary schools
        Which give grains, units, inches for the whole!
If facts surpass mere words, melt pride of soul,
        And pain, and ignorance that hardens fools,
        Here in the fire I've stolen from the Sun!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Soul.

Dentro un pugno di cervel.


A handful of brain holds me: I consume
        So much that all the books the world contains,
        Cannot allay my furious famine-pains:--
        What feasts were mine! Yet hunger is my doom.
With one world Aristarchus fed my greed;
        This finished, others Metrodorus gave;
        Yet, stirred by restless yearning, still I crave:
        The more I know, the more to learn I need.
Thus I'm an image of that Sire in whom
        All beings are, like fishes in the sea;
        That one true object of the loving mind.
Reasoning may reach Him, like a shaft shot home;
        The Church may guide; but only blest is he
        Who loses self in God, God's self to find.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni