Waiting For Death.

Di morte certo.


        My death must come; but when, I do not know:
        Life's short, and little life remains for me:
        Fain would my flesh abide; my soul would flee
        Heavenward, for still she calls on me to go.

        Blind is the world; and evil here below
        O'erwhelms and triumphs over honesty:
        The light is quenched; quenched too is bravery:
        Lies reign, and truth hath ceased her face to show.

        When will that day dawn, Lord, for which he waits
        Who trusts in Thee? Lo, this prolonged delay
        Destroys all hope and robs the soul of life.

        Why streams the light from those celestial gates,
        If death prevent the day of grace, and stay
        Our souls for ever in the toils of strife?

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

Beauty's Intolerable Splendour.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - A Sonnet On Caucasus.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

Sacred Night.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Book Of Nature.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

To Giorgio Vasari. On The Brink Of Death.

Giunto è già.


Now hath my life across a stormy sea
        Like a frail bark reached that wide port where all
        Are bidden, ere the final reckoning fall
        Of good and evil for eternity.

Now know I well how that fond phantasy
        Which made my soul the worshipper and thrall
        Of earthly art, is vain; how criminal
        Is that which all men seek unwillingly.

Those amorous thoughts which were so lightly dressed,
        What are they when the double death is nigh?
        The one I know for sure, the other dread.

Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest
        My soul that turns to His great love on high,
        Whose arms to clasp us on the cross were spread.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Love And Death.

Ognor che l' idol mio.


Whene'er the idol of these eyes appears
        Unto my musing heart so weak and strong,
        Death comes between her and my soul ere long
        Chasing her thence with troops of gathering fears.
Nathless this violence my spirit cheers
        With better hope than if she had no wrong;
        While Love invincible arrays the throng
        Of dauntless thoughts, and thus harangues his peers:
But once, he argues, can a mortal die;
        But once be born: and he who dies afire,
        What shall he gain if erst he dwelt with me?
That burning love whereby the soul flies free,
        Doth lure each fervent spirit to aspire
        Like gold refined in flame to God on high.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

A Prayer For Grace In Death. First Reading.

S' avvien che spesso.


What though strong love of life doth flatter me
        With hope of yet more years on earth to stay,
        Death none the less draws nearer day by day,
        Who to sad souls alone comes lingeringly.
Yet why desire long life and jollity,
        If in our griefs alone to God we pray?
        Glad fortune, length of days, and pleasure slay
        The soul that trusts to their felicity.
Then if at any hour through grace divine
        The fiery shafts of love and faith that cheer
        And fortify the soul, my heart assail,
Since nought achieve these mortal powers of mine,
        Straight may I wing my way to heaven; for here
        With lengthening days good thoughts and wishes fail.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

After The Death Of Vittoria Colonna. After Sunset.

Be' mi dove'.


Well might I in those days so fortunate,
        What time the sun lightened my path above,
        Have soared from earth to heaven, raised by her love
        Who winged my labouring soul and sweetened fate.

That sun hath set; and I with hope elate
        Who deemed that those bright days would never move,
        Find that my thankless soul, deprived thereof,
        Declines to death, while heaven still bars the gate.

Love lent me wings; my path was like a stair;
        A lamp unto my feet, that sun was given;
        And death was safety and great joy to find.

But dying now, I shall not climb to heaven;
        Nor can mere memory cheer my heart's despair:--
        What help remains when hope is left behind?

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

A Prayer For Grace In Death. Second Reading.

Parmi che spesso.


Ofttimes my great desire doth flatter me
        With hope on earth yet many years to stay:
        Still Death, the more I love it, day by day
        Takes from the life I love so tenderly.
What better time for that dread change could be,
        If in our griefs alone to God we pray?
        Oh, lead me, Lord, oh, lead me far away
        From every thought that lures my soul from Thee!
Yea, if at any hour, through grace of Thine,
        The fervent zeal of love and faith that cheer
        And fortify the soul, my heart assail.
Since nought achieve these mortal powers of mine,
        Plant, like a saint in heaven, that virtue here;
        For, lacking Thee, all good must faint and fail.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Death Of Christ.

Non fur men lieti.


Not less elate than smitten with wild woe
        To see not them but Thee by death undone,
        Were those blest souls, when Thou above the sun
        Didst raise, by dying, men that lay so low:
Elate, since freedom from all ills that flow
        From their first fault for Adam's race was won;
        Sore smitten, since in torment fierce God's son
        Served servants on the cruel cross below.
Heaven showed she knew Thee, who Thou wert and whence,
        Veiling her eyes above the riven earth;
        The mountains trembled and the seas were troubled.
He took the Fathers from hell's darkness dense:
        The torments of the damnéd fiends redoubled:
        Man only joyed, who gained baptismal birth.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni