Hope and fear consumes beautiful Florence
who hoped her famous heroes would provide
liberty and peace, and she calls out repeatedly,
at times gently, and then again wildly:

“O my wise and noble sons, why do you not
follow of those who with iron and boldness
opened for you a real roadway to peace?
You know you admired them so much.

Why are you so late coming to my aid?
I didn’t bear you freely and gladly
so you’d desert me, a grief-striken slave

With what strength you can get together,
with wise counsel and powerful hands,
liberate me, save yourselves and your peace.”

Translation by Ellen Moody

We present this work in honor of Women’s Equality Day.

 

So deep does envy’s arrow pierce your heart,
That woman you treat so vile.
Against woman, male does not war,
In all other creatures of the Earth.

O enemy of heaven, and of nature,
How dare you raise hand,
Against so young and beautiful a vision,
Where comes, this, your so perverse desire?

The divine and goodly maker, of your rib,
Of beautiful design, for you brought forth woman,
So, that of one faith, and one love,
In this realm, you would be united!

Well may you claim glory and pride,
Among lions cruel, and evil beasts,
Yet however by nature violent they be,
To the female, their male forbears.

Perhaps not first, nor second,
To your own ill, you will do what you would,
But hold. In peace with your woman live:
For behind the Lion, the Lioness doth lie.

 

I concern myself with you no more;
I have taken up strong arms against you;
I do not answer when you call;
I ridicule and deride you instead.

O enemy, I now have passed
The dubious way.
My Jesus has freed me;
You gain nothing by remaining.
I have known his grace, so I will not fall;
No longer tempt me with hook and bait
I do not answer when you call;
I ridicule and deride you instead.

You believe you have good reason
To shower me with pleasures;
But I no longer think of you
So I will not offend my Lord.
I want you to leave me be,
I no longer want to hear your cries.
I do not answer when you call;
I ridicule and deride you instead.

Who makes his way to the side of Christ,
Has little need of your words;
Who takes care to stop his ears
Is not harmed by your calls.
I go to follow him who died on the cross;
Do what you will, I desire you not.
I do not answer when you call,
I ridicule and deride you instead.

Now I want you to leave me be,
With your threat of mortal wounds!
I will think only on my sins
And on God, whose bounty is infinite.
I want now to lead my life
So that God will love me.
I do not answer when you call;
I ridicule and deride me instead.

Now show me what you can do
How many pleasures you know.
If you were you and of your party,
You would have from me nothing else.
Consider my struggle at an end
With your false and trivial ways!
I do not answer when you call,
I ridicule and deride you instead.

Translation by Jane Tylus

We present this work in honor of the 420th anniversary of the poet’s death.

 

My charming murderer,
So quick to wound, but slow in healing me,
After a sighing vain,
A yearning, an insane delirium,
More handsome than ever turned his glance on me,
Then, like lightning, fled.
Thus my eyes he bedazzled—broke my heart.

Translation by James Wyatt Cook

In honor of Republic Day, we present this work by one of Italy’s greatest war poets.

 

We went out around midnight into the deserted Milan
streets, orso Italia, with Anna Maria Ortese
and Massimo Leli
and Guido Ballo and I don’t know who else,
and I held the tender hand
of a little girl whose black curls
and big eyes I remember but not her name,
and all of a sudden she said in a loud voice:
“It’s dark. When it’s dark, we must be quiet.”

Well then, I thought, we must be quiet all the time.

Translation by Margaret Spiegelman

We present this work in honor of the Italian holiday, Liberation Day.

 

You show me your wounds, as a soldier,
your battle
with another you who’s consuming you
the eyes, the bones
the skin
who cut your tendons a while ago,
the thread that keeps you all together,
diver who doesn’t surface.