Sonnets and Madrigals Of Michelangelo Buonarroti | Project Gutenberg

One day to rise toward height where it began,

The form immortal to thine earthly cell,

An angel of compassion, came to dwell

With balm and healing for the mind of man.

Such life it is that doth thy life endear,

And not thy face serene, its envelope;

In shadows that decline and disappear,

Immortal Love cannot repose his hope.

’Tis true of all things marvellous and fair,

Where Nature taketh forethought, and the sky

Is bountiful in their nativity;

God’s grace doth nowhere else so far prevail

As where it shineth through a body’s veil;

And that I love, for He is mirrored there.

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XXII

Se ’l mie rozzo martello i duri sassi

Forma d’uman aspetto or questo or quello,

Dal ministro, ch’el guida iscorgie e tiello

Prendendo il moto, va con gli altrui passi:

Ma quel divin, ch’in cielo alberga e stassi,

Altri, e sè più, col proprio andar fa bello;

E se nessun martel senza martello

Si può far, da quel vivo ogni altro fassi.

E perchè ’l colpo è di valor più pieno

Quant’alza più se stesso alla fucina,

Sopra ’l mie, questo al ciel n’è gito a volo.

Onde a me non finito verrà meno,

S’or non gli dà la fabbrica divina

Aiuto a farlo, c’al mondo era solo.

If my rude hammer lend enduring stone

Similitude of life, being swayed and plied

By arm of one who doth its labor guide,

It moveth with a motion not its own;

But that on high, which lieth by God’s throne,

Itself, and all beside makes beautiful;

And if no tool be wrought without a tool,

The rest are fashioned by its power alone.

As falls a blow with greater force and heat

The further it descends, for forging mine,

The lifted hammer high as heaven flew;

Wherefore mine own will never be complete

Unless perfected from the forge divine,

For that which shaped it earth may not renew.