Beautiful new rose,
Precious renewer,
By field and river
I’ll happily sing
Your every blessing—to the blooming verdure.
Your sacred blessings
Are rejoiced in both
Age and in youth,
Upon all crossings.
And each bird sings
From its green dwelling,
Morning to evening,
To the trees and springs.
Upon that time and place,
All the world sings
And gives offerings
In honor of your grace,
To that angelic face—that heavenly creature.
An angel’s graces,
Lady, in you are seated;
Oh Lord, how daring
Are my heart’s wishes!
Your resplendent gait
Ventures beyond
Nature and custom,
A miracle of fate.
Among the ladies
They recognize you,
A source of virtue,
Past all compare,
For, who would dare—fathom such nature?
But you were conceived
Beyond worldly nature,
By the creator,
To be immortally wreathed:
With your ardent gaze
Approaching me,
Providence no longer seems to be
Of such cruel ways.
And if gazing lovingly
Should seem an offence,
I offer repentance—
Know Love forces me,
For whom there is no mercy—nor measure.
Translations © David B. Gosselin
Notes
Guido Cavalcanti was a founding member of the Dolce Stil Novo (Sweet New Style) Italian school of poetry, which also included Dante Alighieri and other leading Italian poets. Cavalcanti was at a time Dante's best friend, and also a poetic mentor.
Original
Fresca rosa novella,
piacente primavera,
per prata e per rivera
gaiamente cantando,
vostro fin presio mando – a la verdura.
Lo vostro presio fino in gio’ si rinovelli da grandi e da zitelli per ciascuno camino; e cantin[n]e gli auselli ciascuno in suo latino da sera e da matino su li verdi arbuscelli. Tutto lo mondo canti, po’ che lo tempo vène, sì come si convene, vostr’altezza presiata: ché siete angelicata – crïatura. Angelica sembranza in voi, donna, riposa: Dio, quanto aventurosa fue la mia disïanza! Vostra cera gioiosa, poi che passa e avanza natura e costumanza, ben è mirabil cosa. Fra lor le donne dea vi chiaman, come sète; tanto adorna parete, 30ch’eo non saccio contare; e chi poria pensare – oltra natura? Oltra natura umana vostra fina piasenza fece Dio, per essenza che voi foste sovrana: per che vostra parvenza ver’ me non sia luntana; or non mi sia villana la dolce provedenza!
E se vi pare oltraggio ch’ ad amarvi sia dato, non sia da voi blasmato: ché solo Amor mi sforza, contra cui non val forza – né misura.
Guido Cavalcanti (1250 and 1259 – August 1300 )