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PETRARCH TRANSLATIONS

Sonnet XIV
by Petrarch
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Lust, gluttony and idleness conspire
to banish every virtue from mankind, 
replaced by evil in his treacherous mind, 
thus robbing man of his Promethean fire, 
till his nature, overcome by dark desire, 
extinguishes the light pure heaven refined.
Thus the very light of heaven has lost its power
while man gropes through strange darkness, unable to find
relief for his troubled mind, always inclined
to lesser dreams than Helicon's bright shower! 
Who seeks the laurel? Who the myrtle? Bind
poor Philosophy in chains, to learn contrition
then join the servile crowd, so base conditioned? 
Not so, true gentle soul! Keep your ambition! 



Sonnet VI
by Petrarch
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I once beheld such high, celestial graces
as otherwise on earth remain unknown, 
whose presences might earthly grief atone, 
but from their blinding light we turn our faces.
I saw how tears had left disconsolate traces
within bright eyes no noonday sun outshone.
I heard soft lips, with ululating moans, 
mouth words to jar great mountains from their traces.
Love, wisdom, honor, courage, tenderness, truth
made every verse they voiced more high, more dear, 
than ever fell before on mortal ear.
Even heaven seemed astonished, not aloof, 
as the budding leaves on every bough approved, 
so sweetly swelled the radiant atmosphere! 



Autumn Lament
by Michael R. Burch, circa age 14

Alas, the earth is green no more; 
her colors fade and die, 
and all her trampled marigolds
lament the graying sky.

And now the summer sheds her coat
of buttercups, and so is bared
to winter's palest furies
who laugh aloud and do not care
as they await their hour.

Where are the showers of April? 
Where are the flowers of May? 
And where are the sprites of summer
who frolicked through fields ablaze? 

Where are the lovely maidens
who browned 'neath the flaming sun? 
And where are the leaves and the flowers
that died worn and haggard although they were young? 

Alas, the moss grows brown and stiff
and tumbles from the trees
that shiver in an icy mist, 
limbs shivering in the breeze.

And now the frost has come and cast
itself upon the grass
as the surly snow grows bold
as it prepares at last
to pounce upon the land.

Where are the sheep and the cattle
that grazed beneath tall, stately trees? 
And where are the fragile butterflies
that frolicked on the breeze? 
Oh, where can they all be?
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