being romantic, oddly enough

I feel like jumping up and down. This is a lovely gem I stumbled upon almost accidentally. It is true that half of the reason I feel like jumping is that it fits perfectly into the journal I am writing for poetry class, but the other half is because it is just so beautiful. Sigh... and I am the least romantic member of Shingle Paradise, too! (This has been proven. Ask for details if you need them.)

Without further ado, let me present poem 20 by Petrarch, translated from Italian by A. S. Kline:

Ashamed sometimes that your beauty,
lady, is still silent in my verses,
I recall that time when I first saw it,
such that nothing else could ever please me.

But I find the weight too great for my shoulder,
a work not to be polished by my skill:
the more my wit exercises its force
the more its whole action grows cold.

Many times my lips have opened to speak,
but my voice is stilled in my chest:
who is he who could climb so high?

Many times I've begun to scribble verses:
but the pen, the hand, and the intellect
fell back defeated at their first attempt.


*wistful dreamy look*

A guy who admits that he can't write poetry about you is very appealing (never mind that he just dashed off fourteen beautiful lines...)