39 posts tagged for kitty
For Kitty
Passer, deliciae meae puellae,
quicum ludere, quem in sinu tenere,
cui primum digitum dare appetenti
et acris solet incitare morsus,
cum desiderio meo nitenti
carum nescio quid lubet iocari
et solaciolum sui doloris,
credo ut tum gravis acquiescat ardor:
tecum ludere sicut ipsa possem
et tristis animi levare curas.
For Kitty
Caeli, Lesbia nostra, Lesbia illa,
illa Lesbia, quam Catullus unam
plus quam se atque suos amauit omnes,
nunc in quadriuiis et angiportis
glubit magnanimi Remi nepotes.
(Catullus 58, watercolor by Badges The Elder)
For Kitty
Image of her whom I love, more than she
Whose fair impression in my faithful heart,
Makes me her medal, and makes her love me,
As kings do coins, to which their stamps impart
The value: go, and take my heart from hence,
Which now is grown too great and good for me:
Honours oppress weak spirits, and our sense
Strong objects dull; the more, the less we see.
When you are gone, and reason gone with you,
Then fantasy is queen and soul, and all;
She can present joys meaner than you do;
Convenient, and more proportional.
So, if I dream I have you, I have you,
For, all our joys are but fantastical.
And so I ‘scape the pain, for pain is true;
And sleep which locks up sense, doth lock out all.
After a such fruition I shall wake,
And, but the waking, nothing shall repent;
And shall to love more thankful sonnets make,
Than if more honour, tears, and pains were spent.
But dearest heart, and dearer image stay;
Alas, true joys at best are dream enough;
Though you stay here you pass too fast away:
For even at first life’s taper is a snuff.
Filled with her love, may I be rather grown
Mad with much heart, than idiot with none.
(poem by John Donne, watercolor by Badges the Elder)
For Kitty
Oh come viva in mezzo alle tenebre
Sorgea la dolce imago, e gli occhi chiusi
La contemplavan sotto alle palpebre!
Oh come soavissimi diffusi
Moti per l’ossa mi serpeano, oh come
Mille nell’alma instabili, confusi
Pensieri si volgean! qual tra le chiome
D’antica selva zefiro scorrendo,
Un lungo, incerto mormorar ne prome.
E mentre io taccio, e mentre io non contendo,
Che dicevi, o mio cor, che si partia
Quella per che penando ivi e battendo?
Il cuocer non più tosto io mi sentia
Della vampa d’amor, che il venticello
Che l’aleggiava, volossene via.
Senza sonno io giacea sul dì novello,
E i destrier che dovean farmi deserto,
Battean la zampa sotto al patrio ostello.
Ed io timido e cheto ed inesperto,
Ver lo balcone al buio protendea
L’orecchio avido e l’occhio indarno aperto,
La voce ad ascoltar, se ne dovea
Di quelle labbra uscir, ch’ultima fosse;
La voce, ch’altro il cielo, ahi, mi togliea.
Oh how the sweet image rose alive
amidst the shadows, and how my closed eyes
contemplated it beneath their lids!
Oh how those soft, elusive movements
snaked around my bones, oh how
a thousand confused, uncertain thoughts
roiled in my soul! The way a wind
riffling in the hair of an old wood
excites a long, uncertain murmuring.
And though I was silent and uncomplaining,
what did I say, my heart, when she for whom
you were suffering and beating left?
No sooner did I feel the burning heat
of the flame of love than the little breeze
that could relieve it up and flew away.
I lay sleepless till the new day dawned,
and the horses that soon would leave me lonely
pawed the ground outside my father’s house.
And I, afraid and still and maladroit,
leaned out my window in the dark
watching in vain, cocking my eager ear
to hear her voice, if it would only issue
from those lips one final time; her voice,
for heaven, alas was taking the rest of her.
(translated by Jonathan Galassi, photograph by Edward Steichen)
For Kitty
Tornami a mente il dì che la battaglia
D’amor sentii la prima volta, e dissi:
Oimè, se quest’è amor, com’ei travaglia!
Che gli occhi al suol tuttora intenti e fissi,
Io mirava colei ch’a questo core
Primiera il varco ed innocente aprissi.
Ahi come mal mi governasti, amore!
Perché seco dovea sì dolce affetto
Recar tanto desio, tanto dolore?
E non sereno, e non intero e schietto,
Anzi pien di travaglio e di lamento
Al cor mi discendea tanto diletto?
Dimmi, tenero core, or che spavento,
Che angoscia era la tua fra quel pensiero
Presso al qual t’era noia ogni contento?
Quel pensier che nel dì, che lusinghiero
Ti si offeriva nella notte, quando
Tutto queto parea nell’emisfero:
Tu inquieto, e felice e miserando,
M’affaticavi in su le piume il fianco,
Ad ogni or fortemente palpitando.
E dove io tristo ed affannato e stanco
Gli occhi al sonno chiudea, come per febre
Rotto e deliro il sonno venia manco.
That day comes back to mind when I first knew
the strife of love, and said: Ah me,
if this is love, it is such misery!
When, with eyes still staring at the ground,
I saw the one who, in all innocence,
first opened up a way into this heart.
Oh how badly did you treat me, love!
Why did such sweet feeling have to bring
so much desire and pain along with it?
And why not tranquil, why not whole and pure,
but full of suffering and lament instead,
did so much joy descend into my heart?
Tell me now, tender heart, about the fear,
the anguish you felt, consumed by this idea
compared to which all happiness was pain?
This idea that enticingly
revealed itself to you both day and night
when all seemed quiet in the hemisphere:
you exhausted me, so full of anguish,
lying glad and suffering in bed,
heart beating wildly hour after hour.
And when sad, tormented, and exhausted,
I closed my eyes to sleep, as in a fever,
sleep, broken and delirious, wouldn’t come.
(translated by Jonathan Galassi, photograph by Edward Steichen)
