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    AC Benus
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Translation Trashbin - 45. Ride or lieta la terra, e i fiori a pruova

.

Translation of

Sonetto N. 89

di Benedetto Varchi

 

a messer Giovanni de' Pazzi

 

Ride or lieta la terra, e i fiori a pruova

Delle stelle del ciel di color mille

Risplendon per li prati, e per le ville

Vestesi ogni arboscel di fronde nuova.

Tace il mar, posa il vento, e non si truova

Cosa che l'amorose alme faville

Non senta intorno al cor dolci e tranquille;

Ch'ardere or per amor diletta e giova.

Gl'uomini, gl'animai, gl'arbori e l'erbe,

E quanto scalda il sol d'amare invoglia

Virtù, che 'l terzo ciel benigno piove.

Sol quelle sempre dolci e sempre acerbe,

Cui folgore non tocca, o vento muove,

Non cangian mai color, se mutan foglie.

 

----------------------------------

 

Sonnet No. 89

by Benedetto Varchi

 

for young master Giovanni de’ Pazzi

 

The earth laughs and delights, and her flowers outshine

The stars in the sky with their thousand-colored hues

O’er houses and resplendent across the fields’ views

As she with fresh leaves the shrubs enrobe and entwine.

The sea’s hushed, the winds lay low, or simply recline

Like the amorous love sparkles your soul renews

Here ‘round my heart, gentle and still for you to use;

Catch fire and for love be filled with joy like mine.

For men, the beasts, the woods and each shade of plant life,

It’s how the engendering sun invites to love

Potency, when the third kindled heaven descends.

Only those untouched and tart try to avoid strife,

Those whom lightning will not shake, or the breeze move,

Won’t grow, never can blush, and the stagnant defends.

 

 

 

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Copyright © 2018 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
  • Love 2
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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23 minutes ago, Parker Owens said:

If ever there was a stirring call to love, voiced in the springtime, this is it. May I never prove tart or deaf to the call. Thank you for giving us this. 

Thank you, Parker. Yes, this is a springtime poem, and a dear invitation to bloom in all ways possible. Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts :)

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On 5/13/2023 at 9:56 AM, Backwoods Boy said:

One does not know how old the poet is, but by addressing the poem to "young master...", one might presume an age difference - an older man rejuvenated by the springtime of youth.   

Thank you, Jon. Sorry for the delay in replying.

Varchi's biography reads like a Shakespearean play. One episode involves the young Varchi as a tutor seducing and falling in love with a teen boy he's been hired to teach privately. Varchi climbed up to the boy's balcony at night, where he was let in, so the couple could enjoy nights of lovemaking. One morning, he got caught and escaped unharmed, but the boy's father hired a gang of thugs to beat Varchi up and warn him away from his son   

Edited by AC Benus
  • Love 1
On 5/14/2023 at 3:09 AM, raven1 said:

The images of spring were inspiring.  That they are written as a love sonnet to a younger man seems very probable.  

Thanks, Terry. Yes, as in the Classical tradition, Varchi was a private tutor to the sons of some of Italy's richest, most powerful men. Contrary to what we've been ingrained to think -- to believe that homophobia is not just a 20th century construct, but a given in all past times -- Varchi's love poems to these boys were treasured by the young men's parents. They were proud their offspring could generate such immortal tokens of love

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