Petrarch translations into English

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?