|IN UN BOSCHETTO ...||DOWN IN A DELL ...|
|Guido Cavalcanti||tr. Peter Dean|
In un boschetto trova’ pasturella|
Più che la stella - bell’ al mi’ parere.
Cavelli avea bion delta e vicciutelli
E gli occhi pien d’amor, cera rosata;
Con sua verghetta pasturar’ agnelli,
E, scalza, di rugiada era bagnata;
Cantava come fosse ‘nnamorata:
Er’ adornata - di tutto piacere.
D’amor la salutai immantenente
E domandai s’avesse compagnia;
Ed ella mi rispose dolcemente
Che sola sola per lo bosco gía,
E disse: Sacci, quando l’augel pía,
Allor disía - ‘l me’ cor drudo avere.
Poi che mi disse di sua condizione
E per lo bosco augelli audío cantare,
Fra me stesso diss’io: Or’ è stagione
Di questo pasturella gioi’ pigliare.
Merzè le chiesi sol che di baciare
E d’abbracciare - le fosse ‘n volere.
Per man’ mi presse, d’amorosa voglía,
E disse che donato m’avea ‘l core;
Menemmi sott’ una freschetta foglía
Là dov’ i’ vidi fior d’ogni colore,
E tanto vi sentió gioia e dolzore
Che dio d’amore - parvemi vedere.
Down in a dell I met a shepherdess|
Lovelier no less - than a star she seemed to me.
Blonde hair she had so fair and curly
And full of love her eyes were, skin rose-pink;
With crook she kept her lambs from hurly-burly
And, barefoot, into dewy grass her feet did sink;
She sang as if in love, or so she made me think:
Dressed so, I do not blink - all would be pleased to see.
Immediately fired with love, I said hello
And asked her if she had a chaperone;
And, gently smiling, she responded no,
Through the wood she was travelling quite alone,
Then went on, saying: Since I heard that bird’s tone,
No more, I own - my own heart mine appears to be.
No sooner had she told me of her plight
And heard throughout the wood the same bird’s call,
I softly to myself said: Now the time’s right -
Some pleasure to this shepherdess I’ll bring.
I asked permission of her but for kissing
And for embracing - that’s if she’d agree.
She took my hand with amorous intent
And told me that she’d given me her heart;
And underneath a canopy of cool leaves we went
Where I saw flowers of colour every part,
And there I felt such sweet bliss through me start,
The god of love, I thought, was with us, me and she.
Trans. Copyright © Peter Dean 2003