To Tommaso De' Cavalieri. Love The Light-Giver.

Veggio co' bei vostri occhi.


With your fair eyes a charming light I see,
        For which my own blind eyes would peer in vain;
        Stayed by your feet the burden I sustain
        Which my lame feet find all too strong for me;
Wingless upon your pinions forth I fly;
        Heavenward your spirit stirreth me to strain;
        E'en as you will, I blush and blanch again,
        Freeze in the sun, burn 'neath a frosty sky.
Your will includes and is the lord of mine;
        Life to my thoughts within your heart is given;
        My words begin to breathe upon your breath:
Like to the moon am I, that cannot shine
        Alone; for lo! our eyes see nought in heaven
        Save what the living sun illumineth.

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

Love And Art.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

Love Feeds The Flame Of Age.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

Love's Furnace.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Proem.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

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To Tommaso De' Cavalieri. Love's Lordship.

A che più debb' io.


Why should I seek to ease intense desire
        With still more tears and windy words of grief,
        When heaven, or late or soon, sends no relief
        To souls whom love hath robed around with fire?
Why need my aching heart to death aspire,
        When all must die? Nay, death beyond belief
        Unto these eyes would be both sweet and brief,
        Since in my sum of woes all joys expire!
Therefore because I cannot shun the blow
        I rather seek, say who must rule my breast,
        Gliding between her gladness and her woe?
If only chains and bands can make me blest,
        No marvel if alone and bare I go
        An arméd Knight's captive and slave confessed.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Love's Loadstone. Second Reading.

Non so se s' é l' immaginata luce.


I know not if it be the fancied light
        Which every man or more or less doth feel;
        Or if the mind and memory reveal
        Some other beauty for the heart's delight;

Or if within the soul the vision bright
        Of her celestial home once more doth steal,
        Drawing our better thoughts with pure appeal
        To the true Good above all mortal sight:

This light I long for and unguided seek;
        This fire that burns my heart, I cannot find;
        Nor know the way, though some one seems to lead.

This, since I saw thee, lady, makes me weak:
        A bitter-sweet sways here and there my mind;
        And sure I am thine eyes this mischief breed.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Love's Vain Expense.

Rendete a gli occhi miei.


Give back unto mine eyes, ye fount and rill,
        Those streams, not yours, that are so full and strong,
        That swell your springs, and roll your waves along
        With force unwonted in your native hill!

And thou, dense air, weighed with my sighs so chill,
        That hidest heaven's own light thick mists among,
        Give back those sighs to my sad heart, nor wrong
        My visual ray with thy dark face of ill!

Let earth give back the footprints that I wore,
        That the bare grass I spoiled may sprout again;
        And Echo, now grown deaf, my cries return!

Loved eyes, unto mine eyes those looks restore,
        And let me woo another not in vain,
        Since how to please thee I sh...

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

Waiting In Faith.

Se nel volto per gli occhi


If through the eyes the heart speaks clear and true,
        I have no stronger sureties than these eyes
        For my pure love. Prithee let them suffice,
        Lord of my soul, pity to gain from you.
More tenderly perchance than is my due,
        Your spirit sees into my heart, where rise
        The flames of holy worship, nor denies
        The grace reserved for those who humbly sue.
Oh, blesséd day when you at last are mine!
        Let time stand still, and let noon's chariot stay;
        Fixed be that moment on the dial of heaven!
That I may clasp and keep, by grace divine,
        Clasp in these yearning arms and keep for aye
        My heart's loved lord to me desertless given!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Love's Loadstone. First Reading.

No so s' è la desiata luce.


I know not if it be the longed-for light
        Of her first Maker which the spirit feels;
        Or if a time-old memory reveals
        Some other beauty for the heart's delight;
Or fame or dreams beget that vision bright,
        Sweet to the eyes, which through the bosom steals,
        Leaving I know not what that wounds and heals,
        And now perchance hath made me weep outright.
Be this what this may be, 'tis this I seek:
        Nor guide have I; nor know I where to find
        That burning fire; yet some one seems to lead.
This, since I saw thee, lady, makes me weak;
        A bitter-sweet sways here and there my mind,
        And sure I am thine eyes this mischief breed.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni