Michelangelo

Complete historical translation

From heaven his spirit came, and robed in clay The realms of justice and of mercy trod, Then rose a living man to gaze on God, That he might make the truth as clear as day. For that pure star that brightened with his ray The undeserving nest where I was born, The whole wide world would be a prize to scorn; None but his Maker can due guerdon pay. I speak of Dante, whose high work remains Unknown, unhonoured by that thankless brood, Who only to just men deny their wage. Were I but he! Born for like lingering pains, Against his exile coupled with his good I'd gladly change the world's best heritage!

Complete historical translation

I've grown a goitre by dwelling in this den-- As cats from stagnant streams in Lombardy, Or in what other land they hap to be-- Which drives the belly close beneath the chin: My beard turns up to heaven; my nape falls in, Fixed on my spine: my breast-bone visibly Grows like a harp: a rich embroidery Bedews my face from brush-drops thick and thin. My loins into my paunch like levers grind: My buttock like a crupper bears my weight; My feet unguided wander to and fro; In front my skin grows loose and long; behind, By bending it becomes more taut and strait; Crosswise I strain me like a Syrian bow: Whence false and quaint, I know, Must be the fruit of squinting brain and eye; For ill can aim the gun that bends awry. Come then, Giovanni, try To succour my dead pictures and my fame; Since foul I fare and painting is my shame.

Complete historical translation

The best of artists hath no thought to show Which the rough stone in its superfluous shell Doth not include: to break the marble spell Is all the hand that serves the brain can do. The ill I shun, the good I seek, even so In thee, fair lady, proud, ineffable, Lies hidden: but the art I wield so well Works adverse to my wish, and lays me low. Therefore not love, nor thy transcendent face, Nor cruelty, nor fortune, nor disdain, Cause my mischance, nor fate, nor destiny; Since in thy heart thou carriest death and grace Enclosed together, and my worthless brain Can draw forth only death to feed on me.

Complete historical translation

As pen and ink alike serve him who sings In high or low or intermediate style; As the same stone hath shapes both rich and vile To match the fancies that each master brings; So, my loved lord, within thy bosom springs Pride mixed with meekness and kind thoughts that smile: Whence I draw nought, my sad self to beguile, But what my face shows--dark imaginings. He who for seed sows sorrow, tears, and sighs, (The dews that fall from heaven, though pure and clear, From different germs take divers qualities) Must needs reap grief and garner weeping eyes; And he who looks on beauty with sad cheer, Gains doubtful hope and certain miseries.

Complete historical translation

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.

Historical Italian text

Domino Lodovico Buonarroti in Firenze.

Al nome di Dio. A dì primo di luglio 1497.

Reverendissimo e caro padre. Non vi maravigliate che io non torni, perchè io non ò potuto ancora aconciare e' fatti mia col Cardinale,[4] e partir no mi voglio, se prima io non son sodisfatto e remunerato della fatica mia; e con questi gra' maestri bisognia andare adagio, perchè non si possono sforzare: ma credo in ogni modo di questa settimana che viene, essere sbrigato d'ogni cosa.

Avisovi come fray Lionardo ritornò qua a Roma, che dicie che gli era bisogniato fuggire da Viterbo e che gli era stato tolto la cappa: e voleva venire costà: onde io gli detti un ducato d'oro che mi chiese per venire, e credo che 'l dobiate sapere, perchè debe esser giunto costà.

Io non so che mi vi dire altro, perchè sto sospeso e non so ancora come la s'andrà: ma presto spero essere da voi. Sano: così spero di voi. Racomandatemi agli amici.

MICHELAGNIOLO scultore in Roma.