Luigi Tansillo (1510–1568)
Lagrime di San Pietro

Il magnanimo Pietro, che giurato
Havea tra mille lancie, e mille spade
Al suo caro Signor morir à lato,
Poi che s’accorse vinto da viltade
Nel gran bisogno haver di fe mancato,
Il dolor, la vergogna, e la pietade
Del proprio fallo, e de l’altrui martiro
Di mille punte il petto gli feriro.

When noble Peter, who had sworn that
midst a thousand spears and a thousand swords
he would die beside his beloved Lord,
saw that, overcome by cowardice, his faith
had failed him in his great moment of need,
the grief and shame, and contrition
for his own failure and Christ’s suffering,
pierced his breast with a thousand darts.

Ma gli archi, che nel petto gli avventaro
Le saete più acute, e più mortali,
Fur gli occhi del Signor quando il miraro;
Gli occhi fur gli archi, e i sguardi fur gli strali
Che del cor non contenti seri passaro
Fin dentro à l’alma, e vi fer piaghe tali,
Che bisognò mentre che visse poi
Ungerle col licor de gli occhi suoi.

But the bows which hurled the sharpest
and most deadly arrows into his breast
were the Lord’s eyes, as they looked at him;
His eyes were the bows and His glances the arrows
which, not content with piercing Peter’s heart alone,
entered his very soul, there inflicting such wounds
that for the rest of his life he had to anoint them
with his own tears.

Tre volte haveva à l’importuna e audace
Ancella, al servo, ed à Ia turba rea
Detto e giurato, che giamai seguace
Non fu del suo Signor, ne’I conoscea:
E’l gallo publicato contumace
Il di chiamato in testimon v’havea,
Quando del suo gran fallo à pena avvisto
S’incontrar gli occhi suoi con quei di Christo.

Three times had he sworn
— to the bold, insistent maid, to the servant,
and to the cruel throng — that he had never been
a follower of his Lord, nor did he know him;
then the persistent rooster announced the day,
called to bear witness;
and now aware of his great failure,
Peter looked at Christ and their eyes met.

Qual’ à l’incontro di quegli occhi santi
Il già caduto Pietro rimanesse
Non sia chi di narrario hoggi si vanti,
Che lingua non saria, ch’al ver giungesse,
Parea che’I buon Signor cinto di tanti
Nemici, e de’ suoi privo dir volesse:
Ecco che quel, ch’io dissi, egli è pur vero,
Amico disleal, discepol fiero.

The encounter with those holy eyes
had such an effect upon the fallen Peter
that nobody today could claim to describe it,
nor could any tongue approach the truth.
It seemed as if the good Lord, surrounded by so many
enemies, and bereft of His friends, were saying
“Behold, that which l prophesied has come to pass,
O disloyal friend, cruel disciple”.

Giovane donna il suo bel volto in specchio
Non vide mai di lucido cristallo,
Come in quel punto il miserabil vecchio
Ne gli occhi del Signor vide il suo fallo:
Ne tante cose udir cupido orecchio
Potria, se stesse ben senza untervallo
Intento à l’altrui dir cento annl e cento,
Quante ei n’udio col guardoin quel momento.

No young woman ever saw her beautiful face
reflected in the mirror with such clarity
as in that instant the miserable old man
saw his guilt reflected in the Lord’s eyes:
nor could an eager ear,
listening intently and without pause
for a hundred years and yet a hundred more,
hear all that the glance told Peter in that moment.

Così tal’hor (benche profane cose
Siano à le sacre d’agguagliarsi indegne)
Scoprir mirando nltrui le voglie ascose
Suole amator, senza ch’à dir le vegne.
Chi dunque esperto sia ne l’ingegnose
Schole d’Amor, à chi nol prova insegne,
Come senza aprir bocca, ò scriver note
Con gli occhi anchora favellar si puote.

Thus, at times (though profane things
may be unworthy of comparison to things sacred)
a lover discovers his beloved’s hidden desires
simply by looking, without need for words.
Likewise, experts in the ingenious game of love
can teach the apt but untried novice how,
without speaking or writing a word
one can yet communicate with eyes alone.

Ogni occhio del Signor lingua veloce
Parea, che fusse, ed ogni occhio de’ suoi
Orecchia intenta ad ascoltar sua vocc.
Piu fieri (parea dir) son gli occhi tuoi
De l’empie man, che mi porranno in croce;
Ne sento colpo alcun, che sì m’annoi
Di tanti, che’l reo stuolo in me ne scocca,
Quanto il coIpo, ch’uscIo de la tua bocca.

Each of the Lord’s eyes seemed to be a swift tongue,
and each of Peter’s eyes was as an ear
listening intently to His voice.
”More cruel”, He seemed to say, “are your eyes
than the godless hands that will put Me on the cross;
of the many injuries inflicted on me by the abusive
throng, none grieves me more than the one
which came from your lips.”

Nessun fedel trovai, nessun cortese
Di tanti c’ho degnato d’esser miei;
Ma tu, dove il mio amor via più s’accese,
Perfido e ingrato sovra ogn’altro sei:
Ciascun di Ior sol coI fuggir m’offese,
Tu mi negasti; ed hor con gli altri rei
Ti stai à pascer del mio danno gli occhi,
Perche Ia parte del piacer ti tocchi.

“None faithful did I find, none kind
among those I had deemed worthy to be my followers;
but you, in whom my love burned so brightly,
are treacherous and unkind above all the others.
Each of them hurt me only by his desertion,
but you denied me; and now with the other guilty ones
you feast your eyes on my adversity,
having chosen for yourself the easy path.”

Chi ad una ad una raccontar potesse
Le parole di sdegno e d’amor piene,
Che parve à Pietro di veder impresse
Nel sacro giro de le due serene
Luci, scoppiar faria chi l’intendesse:
Ma se d’ochhio mortaI sovente viene
Virtú, che possa in noi, ch’il prova pensi,
Che puote occhio divin ne gli human sensi.

He who could recount one by one
the words full of anger and love
that Peter seemed to see written
on the serene, holy eyes of Christ,
would cause a listener to burst into tears.
For if, as one can experience, mortal eye can often be
a source of goodness, what then
may the divine eye instil into human senses.

Come faIda di neve, che agghiacciata
Il verno in chiusa valle ascosa giacque,
A primavera poi dal sol scaldata
Tutta si sface, e si discioglie in acque
Così la tema, che entro aI cor geIata
Era di Pietro allhor, che’l vero tacque,
Quando Christo ver lui gli occh rivolse
Tutta si sfece, e in pianto si risolse.

Like a snowflake which, having lain frozen
and hidden in deep valleys all winter,
and then in springtime, warmed by the sun,
melts and flows into streams;
thus the fear which had lain like ice
in Peter’s heart and made him repress the truth,
now that Christ turned His eyes on him,
melted and was changed into tears.

E non fu il pianto suo rivo ó Torrente.
Che per caldo stagion giamai seccasse:
Che, benche il Re del Cielo immantenente
A la perduta gratia il ritornasse,
De la sua vita tutto il rimanente
Non fu mai notte che ei non si destasse,
Udendo il gallo à dir quanto fu iniquo,
Dando lagrime nove al fallo antiquo.

His weeping was no brook or river
such as may be dried up by hot weather;
for, although the King of Heaven
immediately restored his fallen grace,
for the remainder of his life
never a night passed that he did not awake
on hearing the rooster sing of his iniquity,
and weep new tears over the old guilt.

Quel volto, che era poco inanzi stato
Asperso tutto di color di morte,
Per il sangue, che al cor se n’era andato,
Lasciando fredde l’altre parti e smorte:
Dal raggio de’santi occhi riscaldato
Divenne fiamma; e per l’istesse porte,
Ch’era entrato, il timor fuggendo sparve
E nel suo loc la vergogna apparve.

That face which shortly before
had taken on the colour of death
(for the blood had all rushed to his heart,
leaving the other parts cold and pale),
was now heated by the rays from those holy eyes
and became a flame; and by the same doors
where it had entered, fear fled and disappeared,
leaving shame in its place.

Veduto il miser quanto differente
Dal primo stato suo si ritroeava,
Non bas tandogli il cor di star presente
A l’offeso Signor, che sì l’amava
Senza aspettar se fiera, ò se clemente
Sententia il duro Tribunal gli dava,
Da l’odiato albergo, ove era all hora
Piangendo amaramente usci di fuora.

Wretched Peter, when he saw how different
from his former self he had become,
lacking enough courage to stay in the presence
of his wronged Lord, who loved him so,
not waiting to hear if the dread
Tribunal imposed a harsh or merciful sentence,
from the loathsome place where he was,
weeping bitterly, he fled outside.

Evago d’incontrar chi giusta pena
Desse al suo grave error, poi che paura
Di maggior mal l’ardita man raffrena,
Per l’ombre errando de la notte oscura
Ne va gridando ove il dolor il mena:
E la vita, che dianzi hebbe sì à cura:
Hor piu, ch’altro, odia, e sol di lei si duole,
Et, perche lo fè errar, piu non la vuole.

And longing to find someone who would justly
punish his grievous sin — because afraid of
even greater ill he restrains his own bold hand —
roaming about in the darkness of the night
he goes crying aloud wherever his suffering leads him;
and life, that before was so dear to him,
he now despises above all, suffering only because of it
and, because it made him sin, he no longer wants it.

Vattene vita và (dicea piangendo)
Dove non sia chi t’odli, ò chi ti sdegeni:
Lasciami: so che non è ben, che, essendo
Compagnia cosi rea, meco ne’vegni:
Vattene vita và, ch’io non intendo,
Che un’altra volta ad esser vil m’insegni:
Ne vò per prolungar tue frali tempre,
Uccider l’alma nata à viver sempre.

Leave me, life, begone (he wept),
go where you are not hated and scorned.
Leave me, for l know it is not right for you
to be in such sinful company.
Leave me, life, begone, for I will not let you
teach me such cowardice yet another time,
nor shall I, to prolong, your frail existence,
kill the soul born to live forever.

O vita troppo rea, troppo fallace,
Che per fuggir qua giu si breve guerra,
l’erder m’hai fatto in cielo eterna pace:
Chi piu desia goderti in su la terra
Piu tosto senza te schernito giace:
E chi vorria lasciarti, e gir sotterra,
Non vuoi, malgrado suo, giamai lasciarlo
Vaga di sempre a nuovo duol serbarlo.

O wicked, deceptive life;
so that l might escape one brief struggle on earth,
you caused me to lose eternal peace in heaven.
He who most desires to enjoy you here on earth
is abandoned, rejected by you,
and he who would leave you, and lie beneath the earth
you never release, despite his wish,
fondly preserving him for new torments.

A quanti già felici in giovinezza
Recò l’indugio tuo lunghi tormenti;
Che se inanzi al venir de la vecchiezza
Sciolti fusser del mondo, più contenti
Morti sarian; poi che non ha fermezza
Stato alcun, che si temi, ò si paventi;
Onde io vita à ragion di te mi doglio
Che stessi meco, e stai piu che non voglio.

To how many lives, once happy in youth
has your persistence brought prolonged torments,
when, if before reaching old age
they had been released from this world,
they would have died content;
for a life of fear and trembling has no validity at all;
thus, life, on your account I grieve, because
you persisted and have outstayed your welcome.

Non trovava mia fe sì duro intoppo
Se tu non stavi sì gran tempo meco:
Se non havesser gli anni e il viver troppo
Portato il sennon e la memoria seco,
Pensar dovea, ch’io vidi dar al zoppoI pie,
Ia lingua al muto, e gli occhi al cieco,
E quel che piu maravigliar fe l’ombre
Render l’anime à i corpi, onde eran sgombre.

My faith would not have met such an obstacle
if you had not stayed with me for so long.
If the many years and too much living
had not taken away my sense and memory with them,
l should have remembered that l saw Him give feet
to the lame, a tongue to the mute, and eyes to the blind;
and that, most marvelous of all, He made the Kingdom
of Death return souls to lifeless bodies.

Queste opre e piu, che’l mondo ed io sapea,
Ramentar mi dovean che il lor fattore
Fontana di salute esser dovea,
E sgombrar del miu petto ogni timore:
Ma come quel, che per l’età c’havea,
Era di senno e di me stesso fuore,
Nel gran periglio ricercando aita
Per tema di morir negai la vita.

These works, and more that the world and l witnessed,
should have reminded me that He who performed them
was the very Fount of all well-being,
and thus free my breast of fear.
But as an old man, timorous with age,
out of my senses and beside myself,
looking for help in that moment of great peril,
from fear of dying, I denied life.

Negando il mio Signor, negal quel che era
La vita, onde ogni vita si deriva:
Vita tranquilla, che non teme ò spera,
Ne puote il corso suo giunger à riva:
Poi che dunque negai la vita vera
Non è, non è ragion, che unqua piu viva:
Vatten, vita fallace, e tosto sgombra;
Se la vera negai, non chiedo l’ombra.

By denying my Lord, I denied life itself,
from which each life springs:
a tranquil life that neither fears nor desires,
whose course flows on without end:
because then I denied the one true life,
there is no reason, none at all, to continue living.
Go then, vain life, quickly leave me.
Since I denied the true one, I seek no mere illusion.

Vide homo, quæ pro te partior,
Ad te clamo, qui pro te morior.
Vide pœnas, quibus afficior.
Vide clavos, quibus confodior!
Non est doIor, sicut quo crucior?
Et cum sit tantus dolor exterior,
Intus tamen dolor est gravior,
Tam ingratum cum te experior.

Behold, oh man, what l suffer for you,
I who am dying for you call to you.
Behold the pains with which I am afflicted,
behold the nails by which l am pierced.
Is there any pain equal to mine?
And though my body suffers greatly,
yet my heart suffers even more
because of your ingratitude.