Michelangelo, Poems

“If by a happy heart the face is made beautiful and by a sad one ugly…”

“…it would be good for both to paint her with a happy heart and a dry face: it would make her beautiful and me not ugly.”

“Of divine things one speaks on a blue field”

Michelangelo, Se dal cor lieto divien bello il volto, c.1544

Poem 151, ca. 1538-44

Not even the best of artists has any conception

that a single marble block does not contain

within its excess, and that is only attained

by the hand that obeys the intellect.

The pain I flee from and the joy I hope for

are similarly hidden in you, lovely lady,

lofty and divine; but, to my mortal harm,

my art gives results the reverse of what I wish.

Love, therefore, cannot be blamed for my pain,

nor can your beauty, your hardness, or your scorn,

nor fortune, nor my destiny, nor chance,

if you hold both death and mercy in your heart

at the same time, and my lowly wits, though burning,

cannot draw from it anything but death.

Poemul 151

Nu incape-n sculptor nici un gand pe care

sa nu-l cuprinda marmura-n prisosul

ce zace-n ea; prin el desprinzi frumosul

cand mana da simtirii ascultare.

La fel se-ascunde raul ce ma doare

si binele ce-l caut in duiosul tau chip;

ci eu, nenorocosul,

s-aleg ce-i bine n-am indemanare.

Nu-i vina frumusetii ce-n pupila

iti arde ori a iubirii ce ne joaca

si nici a sortii ce destin ne-mparte;

caci tu in san si moarte poti si mila

si numai eu cu arta mea saraca

nu stiu sa scot din tine numai moarte.

Poem 239, 1538-46

How can it be, Lady, as one can see

from long experience, that the live image

sculpted in hard alpine stone lasts longer

than its maker, whom the years return to ashes?

The cause bows down and yields to the effect,

from which it's clear that nature's defeated by art;

and I know, for I prove it true in beautiful sculpture, that time and death can't keep their threat to the work.

Therefore, I can give both of us long life

in any medium, whether colors or stone,

by depicting each of these faces of ours;

so that a thousand years after our departure

may be seen how lovely you were, and how wretched I,

and how, in loving you, I was no fool.

Poemul 239

Marita doamna, spune-mi cum se face

ca-n stei cioplita dainuie-o faptura

cand cel ce-a faurit-o-n piatra dura cu timpul in cenusa se preface?

Sub ce-a trudit fauritorul zace,

caci mai presus e arta de natura;

eu stiu, o simt prin propria mea sculptura

ce vremilor le tine piept tenace.

De-aceea deopotriva pot si tie si mie

in culori sau piatra muta, viata a ne da,

o viata nesfarsita,

ca dupa noi prin veacuri sa se stie

cat de frumoasa-ai fost si cat de sluta

faptura ce-a iubit indreptatita.

In romaneste de Eta Boeriu- Almanah Arta 1990

Dante

What should be said of him cannot be said;
By too great splendor is his name attended;
To blame is easier those who him offended,
Than reach the faintest glory round him shed.
This man descended to the doomed and dead
For our instruction; then to God ascended;
Heaven opened wide to him its portals splendid,
Who from his country's, closed against him, fled.
Ungrateful land! To its own prejudice
Nurse of his fortunes; and this showeth well
That the most perfect most of grief shall see.
Among a thousand proofs let one suffice,
That as his exile hath no parallel,
Ne'er walked the earth a greater man than he.