I paraphrased this selection of Michelangelo Buonarotti's poems for a friend whose dauter had suicided.
Epitaph 2. Deh Serbi
Don’t pity me who lies here,
I am free of the world:
Pity rather yourselves
who must still endure it.
Epitaph 7. Qui son sepulto
Buried here, a mere child
in death’s embrace. Stealthily,
craftily, he stole my soul
so that I never knew I’d lived.
Epitaph 12. Qui son morto
You who loved me may think me dead,
yet if you love me still, see me
in the many thousand lovers
who never knew of my existence.
Epitaph 18. Se fussin
If you weep for me
you return me to life.
Have pity, I am free.
Do not invite me back.
Epitaph 41. Qui stese
When death beckoned
my flower became his fruit,
returning to the earth
in love with darkness.
No comments:
Post a Comment