1. |
Rima I
02:42
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Five poems by Gaspara Stampa (1523-1554)
Rima I
Voi, ch'ascoltate in queste meste rime
in questi mesti, in questi oscuri accenti
il suon degli amorosi miei lamenti
e de le pene mie tra l'altre prime,
ove fia chi valor apprezzi e stime,
gloria, non che perdon, de' miei lamenti
spero trovar fra le ben nate genti,
poi che la lor cagion'è sì sublime.
E spero ancor che debba dir qualcuna:
Felicissima lei, da che sostenne
per si chiara cagion danno sì chiaro!
Deh, perchè tant' amor, tanta fortuna
per sì nobil signor a me non venne,
ch'anchio n'andrei con tanta donna a paro?
O you who listen to these mournful verses,
In these unhappy, in these somber accents,
To the sound of laments inspired by Love,
And of my pains, greater than any other,
I hope to find among some well-born people,
Wherever they may be, those who prize honor,
Not only pardon for my tears, but glory,
Because the reason for them is so lofty.
I dare to hope some woman will exclaim:
“Happy is she, she who has undergone
For such a noble cause, sorrow so noble!
Why were not such high fortune, such great love,
Granted to me, and such a splendid lord,
So I could walk as equal to that lady?”
From Gaspara Stampa, Selected Poems.
Edited and translated by Laura Anna Stortoni and Mary Prentice Lillie. New York: Italica Press, 1994. Copyright 1994 by Laura Anna Stortoni. Used by permission.
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2. |
Rima V
02:13
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Five poems by Gaspara Stampa (1523-1554)
Rima V
Io assimiglio il mio signor al cielo meco sovente.
Il suo bel viso è 'l sole;
gli occhi, le stelle, e 'l suon de le parole
è l'armonia, che fa'l signor di Delo.
Le tempeste, le piogge, i tuoni e 'l gelo
son i suoi sdegni, quando irar si suole;
le bonacce e 'l sereno è quando vuole
squarciar de l'ire sue benigno il velo.
La primavera e 'l germogliar de' fiori
è quando ei fa fiorir la mia speranza,
promettendo tenermi in questo stato.
L'orrido verno è poi, quando cangiato
minaccia di mutar pensieri e stanza,
spogliata me de' miei più ricchi onori.
Sometimes my mind will liken my beloved
To everything in heaven; his fair face
Is like the sun, his eyes, the stars; his voice
The harmony made by the Lord of Delos.
Tempests and rain, the thunder and the lightning,
Are in his mien whenever he is angry;
His calms and cloudless days are when he wishes,
In kindness, to tear off the veil of wrath.
Springtime, the time when flowers bud and open,
Is when he makes my hope spring up anew
With promises to hold me in that state.
But dreadful winter comes, when of a sudden
He threatens change of both his mood and dwelling,
Despoiling me of all my dearest honors.
From Gaspara Stampa, Selected Poems.
Edited and translated by Laura Anna Stortoni and Mary Prentice Lillie. New York: Italica Press, 1994. Copyright 1994 by Laura Anna Stortoni. Used by permission.
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3. |
Rima XXVI
04:23
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Five poems by Gaspara Stampa (1523-1554)
Rima XXVI
Arsi, piansi, cantai; piango, ardo e canto;
Piangerò, arderò, canterò sempre
(fin che Morte o Fortuna o tempo stempre
a l'ingegno, occhi e cor, stil, foco e pianto)
La bellezza, il valor e 'l senno a canto,
che 'n vaghe, sagge ed onorate tempre
Amor, natura e studio par che tempre
nel volto, petto e cor del lume santo:
Che, quando viene, e quando parte 'l sole,
la notte e 'l giorno ognor, la state e'l inverno,
tenebre e luce darmi e tôrmi suole.
tanto con l'occhio fuor, con l'occhio interno,
agli atti suoi, ai modi, a le parole,
splendor, dolcezza e grazia ivi discerno.
I burnt, I wept, I sang – burn, weep and sing,
And I shall weep, burn, sing forever more
(Until Death, Time, or Fortune wash away
my talent, eyes, heart, style, my fire and tears)
The beauty, courage and deep intellect,
Which in a lovely, wise and honored manner,
Love, nature and the highest art have painted
Within the face, breast, heart of my true light
Who – when the sun itself rises or sets,
By night or day, in summer or in winter -
Gives me or takes away darkness or light.
Thus, with my outer or my inner eye,
I see in all his acts, manners and words
His splendor, and his sweetness and his grace.
From Gaspara Stampa, Selected Poems.
Edited and translated by Laura Anna Stortoni and Mary Prentice Lillie. New York: Italica Press, 1994. Copyright 1994 by Laura Anna Stortoni. Used by permission.
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4. |
Rima XXXIV
02:30
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Five poems by Gaspara Stampa (1523-1554)
Rima XXXIV
Sai tu, perchè ti mise in mano, Amore,
gli stral tua madre, ed agli occhi la benda?
Perchè quella saetti, impiaghi e fenda
i cor di questo e qual fido amatore;
E con questi non possi veder fuore
de' colpi tuoi la crudeltà stupenda,
sí che pietoso affatto non ti renda,
o almen non tempri l'empio tuo furore.
Che, se vedessi un dì la piaga mia,
o non saresti dio, ma cruda fèra,
o pietoso o men aspro ti faria.
Non vorrei già che tu vedessi in cera
i raggi del mio sol; ché ti parria
forse a l'incontro picciola e leggera.
Love, do you know why your fair mother gave you
These arrows to your hands, and bound your eyes?
That you may shoot the first wound and break
The heart of this or any faithful lover;
And tied the blindfold, so you cannot see
dreadful cruelty you have inflicted
So that it will not let you suffer pity,
Or even moderate your impious furor.
For, if you saw one of my dreadful wounds,
You would not be a god, but a wild beast,
Or it might make you tender, or less fierce.
I would not wish you to come face to face
With the rays of my sun; my wound would seem,
Next to his greatness, small and light.
From Gaspara Stampa, Selected Poems.
Edited and translated by Laura Anna Stortoni and Mary Prentice Lillie. New York: Italica Press, 1994. Copyright 1994 by Laura Anna Stortoni. Used by permission.
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5. |
Rima XLIII
03:44
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Five poems by Gaspara Stampa (1523-1554)
Rima XLIII
Dura è la stella mia, maggior durezza
è quella del mio conte: egli mi fugge,
i' seguo lui; altri per me si strugge,
i' non posso mirar altra bellezza.
Odio chi m'ama, ed amo chi mi sprezza:
Verso chi m'è umìle il mio cor rugge,
e son umìl con chi mia speme adugge;
a così stranio cibo ho l'alma avezza.
Egli ognor dà cagione a novo sdegno,
essi me cercan dar conforto e pace;
i' lasso questi, ed a quell'un m'attegno.
Così ne la tua scola, Amor, si face
sempre il contrario di quel ch'egli è degno:
L'umil si sprezza, e l'empio si compiace.
Harsh is my fortune, but still harder fate
Is dealt me by my lord; he flees from me.
I follow him, while others pine for me,
But I cannot admire another’s face.
I hate the one who loves, love him who scorns me.
Against the humble ones, my heart rebels,
But I am humble toward the one who spurns me.
So my soul starves for such harmful food!
He gives me cause for anger every day,
The others try to give comfort and peace.
Those I deny, but cling to my tormentor.
in your school, O Love, the scholars win
The opposite of that which they deserve:
The humble are despised, the proud are praised.
From Gaspara Stampa, Selected Poems.
Edited and translated by Laura Anna Stortoni and Mary Prentice Lillie. New York: Italica Press, 1994. Copyright 1994 by Laura Anna Stortoni. Used by permission.
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Thomas Oboe Lee Cambridge, Massachusetts
Thomas Oboe Lee was born in China in 1945. He lived in São Paulo, Brazil, for six years before coming to the United States in 1966. After graduating from the University of Pittsburgh, he studied composition at the New England Conservatory and Harvard University. He has been a member of the music faculty at Boston College since 1990. ... more
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