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From An Anthology of Italian Poems 13th-19th Century selected and translated by Lorna de’ Lucchi, Alfred A. Knopf, New York; 1922; pp. 66-69, 349-350.


[For purists, the Italian text of the poems follows the English translation.]



CINA DA PISTOIA, 1270-1336

Notes and translation by Lorna de’ Lucchi


[349]

Biographical Note

CINA DA PISTOIA (Guittoncino de’ Sigibaldi), a nobleman, born at Pistoia; educated at Bologna, where he fell in love with Selvaggia, probably the daughter of Filippo Vergiolesi; was exiled with the Black Guelfs in 1301, and returned with them to power in 1306; lectured in various towns of Italy, and died in Pistoia; wrote legal works and lyrics, and corresponded with Dante, who was his friend; Petrarch wrote a sonnet bewailing his death. He belongs to the
350
group of the poets of “stil nouvo,” but added a note of melancholy introspection to their poetry and is a link between them and Petrarch.



Poem


[67]

CINA DA PISTOIA, 1270-1336

Canzone

THE loveliness, the glances soft and clear
Of sweetest eyes that e’er unveiled their glow,
Lost unto me, make this my life appear
So grievous that in heaviness I go;
Instead of the gay thoughts I used to know,
Because of love for her,
Now at my heart’s core stir
Thoughts that of Death are born
By reason of this parting whence I mourn.
   In the beginning, Love, alas, alas,
Why didst not wound me so that I might die?
Why didst not part from me, O Love, alas,
The tortured spirit whereon I rely?
In this my sorrow unconsoled am I:
Indeed, the more I yearn
The more regret doth burn,
69 Since gone away from me
Are the sweet eyes wherein I mirrored thee.
   Love, I have seen thee in those tender eyes,
Thinking on which to-day I am as slain:
Such mighty hosts of sorrow do arise
In memory that my soul cries out for pain,
Because, alas, Death doth not part us twain,
Even as I find me here
Parted both from that dear
Face and from all delight,
Becaue of the great strife ‘’twixt black and white.
   When haply I would greet with courtesy
Some gentle lady, lifting up my eyes,
I feel that all my valiancy doth flee
And cannot stem the tears that in them rise,
Calling in mind that now Madonna lies
Far distantly from me;
O mournful eyes, will ye
Not die for very rue?
Of your free will, if Love agree thereto.
   These eyes are saddened by what they behold,
Close them, O Love, with thy hand piteously
Since they no more their vision fair enfold.
When life by way of death is given to hold,
Death is a happy goal.
Thou knowest where my soul
Hereafter needs must go,
Thou knowest, too, what pity it will know.
   O Love, my torments do beseech of thee
Mercy in deadly wise,
As far as in me lies,
Let me death’s gladness learn
And to Pistoia let my soul return.









[66]

CINA DA PISTOIA, 1270-1336

Canzone


LA dolce vista e ’l bel guardo soave
de’ più begli occhi che si vider mai,
ch’ I’ ho perduto, mi fa parer grave
la vita sì, ch’ ovo traendo guai:
e ’n vece di pensier leggiadri e gai,
ch’ aver solea d’ amore,
porto desii nel core
che nati son di morte,
per la partita che mi duol si forte.
   Ohimè! deh perchè, Amor, al primo passo
non mi feristi sì ch’ io fussi morto?
perchè non dipartisti da me, lasso!
lo spirito angoscioso ched io porto?
Amor, al mio dolor non è conforto:
anzi, quanto più guardo,
as sospirar più ardo,
68 trovandomi partuto
da quei begli occhi ov’io t’ ho già veduto.
   Io t’ o veduto in quei begli occhi, Amore,
tal che la rimembranza me n’ ancide
e fa sì grande schiera di dolore
dentro la mente, che l’ anima stride
sol perchè morte mai non la divide
da me, come diviso
mi trovo dal bel viso
ed’ ogni stato allegro.
pe ’l gran contrario ch’ è tra ’l bianco e ’l negro.
   Quando per gentil atto di salute
vèr bella donna levo gli occhi alquanto,
sì tutta si disvìa la mia vertute,
che dentro ritener non posso ’l pianto,
membrando di Madonna, a cui son tanto
lontan di verder lei.
O dolenti occhi miei,
non morite di doglia?
Sì, per vostro voler, pur che Amor voglia.
   Amor, la mia ventura è troppo cruda,
e ciò che ’ncontran gli occhi più m’ attrista:
dunque, mercè! che la tua man li chiuda,
da c’ ho perduto l’ amorosa vista;
e quando vita per morte s’ acquista,
gli è gioioso il morire:
tu sai dove de’ gire
lo spirto mio da poi,
e sai quanta pietà s’ arà di noi.
   Amor, ad esser micidial pietoso
t’ invita il mio tormento:
secondo c’ ho talento,
dammi di morte gioia,
si che lo spirto almen torni a Pistoia.





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