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Cieli, stelle, deitade, or chi distempra
Original Language: Italian
Cieli, stelle, deitadi, hor chi distempra
In colori l'Aurora onde di Donna
Che cieli, stelle, e deità pareggia,
Le glorie, il bello e i nobili sembianti
Con canoro pennello,
Con pennelli di penne io pinga e canti.
Vago crine,
Che ruine
Porti all'alme,
Che più stami
Di legami
Ordisc'ai cori,
Fia poco al paragon de' suoi tesori.
Occhi vaghi,
Mai non paghi
Di ferire,
Che zaffiri
Con bei giri
D'alte tempre,
Siansi piccioli cieli et ardan sempre.
Vago neo su la sinistra
Guancia poi si raffigura,
Onde pose dopo fatto
Volto candido et intatto,
In un bello oltre misura
Punto fermo la natura.
Delle labra e della bocca
Che fan scorno agl'eritrei
Dir vorrei, ma chi dir può?
Io non so quai più sian belle in effetto,
O le perle ch'ha in bocca o quelle in petto.
Lusinghiere catene,
Adorabili orgogli,
Placidissimi sdegni, honesti sguardi,
Soavissime fiamme e care morti,
In ogn'atto riserba:
Il tratto è maestoso, il passo è imperioso,
Che su troni di Regni e in un d'ardori
Può premer l'alme e calpestarre i cori.
Ma del senno e della destra,
Chi dirà lode che baste?
Dotto l'un, l'altra in palestra,
Carte verga e stringe l'haste.
Così può, così vale in pace e in guerra
Una SOFIA per due Minerve in terra.
Ma dove spieghi il volo,
Se d'aquila non sei, penna inesperta?
Serbansi con più vivi alti colori
Più delle carte il suo ritratto i cori.
Poet:
English
Heavens, stars, dieties
Heavens, stars, deities,
who color the dawn,
I paint and sing with a melodious paintbrush,
with the brush of a quill, of the glories, beauty, and noble features of a Lady who
equals the heavens, stars, and deities.
Fair tresses,
that bring ruin
to the souls of men,
that weave
many bonds
around hearts,
they're the least among her treasures.
The lovely eyes,
that never tire of
wounding,
such sapphires
with beautiful motions
of noble mien,
let them be small heavens and burn forever.
Then a charming beauty spot
can be seen on the left cheek,
where nature placed it after having made
a pure and untainted face,
as the final mark of a beauty
beyond compare.
Of her lips and mouth,
that put to shame the pearls of Eritrea,
I'd like to say... but who can describe them?
In fact I don't know which are more beautiful,
the pearls in her mouth or those on her breast.
Enticing chains,
adorable haughtiness,
gentle disdain, honest glances,
sweet flames and precious deaths,
in all her acts reserved:
her features are majestic, her gait proud,
such that on the thrones of both kingdoms and passion
she can vanquish souls and crush hearts.
But of her intellect and her strength,
who can speak sufficient praises?
With the one she writes with wisdom on paper,
with the other she firmly holds the lance.
Thus in both peace and in war
one SOFIA on Earth is worth two Minervas.
But where, unskillful quill, do you attempt to fly,
since you're not from an eagle?
Her portrait is painted in brighter and
more noble colors in hearts than on paper.
Translated by:
Richard Kolb
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Cieli, stelle, deitade
Published by Cor Donato Editions in historically correct modern transcription, including critical introductory notes on the work, editorial procedures, original texts with new English translations, and other contextual information about the piece.
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