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| Preface | |
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| The Long Beginning (1475-1532) | |
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| A man who's happy many a year, one hour | |
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| Brow burning, in cool gloom, as sundown shears | |
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| I was happy, with fate favoring, to abide | |
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| How joyfully it shows, the garland there | |
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| A goiter it seems I got from this backward craning | |
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| If any of those old proverbs, lord, make sense | |
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| Who's this that draws me forcibly to you? | |
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| O God, O God, O God, how can I be | |
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| He Who made all there is, made every part | |
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| Chalices hammered into sword and helmet! | |
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| How much less torment to breathe out my soul | |
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| How could I, since it's so | |
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| Fame keeps the epitaphs where they lie | |
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| The Day and the Night speak | |
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| Seeing I'm yours, I rouse me from afar | |
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| From one all loveliness and all allure | |
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| Rancorous heart, cruel, pitiless, through showing | |
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| Though shouldered from the road I chose When young | |
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| Fine lass or lady, they | |
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| Sweeter your face than grapes are, stewed to mush | |
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| Once born, death's our destination | |
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| What's to become of me? What's this you're doing | |
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| I was, for years and years now, wounded, killed | |
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| I made my eyes an entryway for poison | |
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| When with a clanking chain a master locks | |
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| Uproot a plant—there's no way it can seal | |
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| Flee from this Love, you lovers; flee the flame! | |
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| Because there's never a time I'm not enchanted | |
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| All rage, all misery, all show of strength | |
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| From eyes of my beloved one, come burning | |
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| Love in your eyes? no; life and death are there | |
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| I live for sinning, for the self that dies | |
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| Were it true that, besides my own, another's arms | |
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| Where my love lives is nowhere in my heart | |
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| The eyelid, shadowing, doesn't interfere | |
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| My lover stole my heart, just over there | |
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| In me there's only death; my life's in you | |
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| He who beguiles both time and death together | |
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| For a would from the searing arrows Love lets fly | |
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| WHen blithely Love would lift me up to heaven | |
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| O noble soul, in whom, as mirrored, show | |
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| Pray tell me, Love, if what my eyes can see | |
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| My reason, out of sorts with me, deplores | |
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| When to that beauty that I saw before | |
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| It well may be, so vehement my sighing | |
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| If my rough hammer shapes the obdurate stone | |
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| When the occasioner of many a sigh | |
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| Just as a flame, by wind and weather flailed | |
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| Your beauty, Love, stuns mortal reckonings | |
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| What's to become of her, long years from now | |
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| Alas! Alas! for the way I've been betrayed | |
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| Were one allowed to kill himself right here | |
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| Who rides by night on horseback, come the day | |
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| I do believe, if you were made of stone | |
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| Though quite expensive, look, I've bought you this | |
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| My death is what I love on; seems to me | |
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| If I'm more alive because love burns and chars me | |
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| Three Loves (1532-1547) | |
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| If longings for the immortal, which exalt | |
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| If pure devotion, passion without stain | |
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| You know, my lord, that I too know you know | |
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| If, when it caught my eye first, I'd been bolder | |
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| Only with fire can men at forge and flue | |
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| So fond is fire of the frigid stone it waits | |
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| If fire can melt down steel and shatter flint | |
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| Just when I'm lost in adoration of you | |
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| Maybe, so I'd look kindly on souls in need | |
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| A new and more commendable delight | |
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| Then there's this giant—tall! So tall he can't | |
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| Nature knows what it's doing: one cruel as you | |
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| O cruel star, or say instead, cruel will | |
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| I have your letter, thank you, as received | |
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| If, through our eyes, the heart's seen in the face | |
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| Now that I'm banned and routed from the fire | |
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| I weep, I burn—burn up!—my heart thereby | |
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| Too much! the way he flaunts himself around | |
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| Whether or not the light I long for, sent | |
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| Supposing the passionate fire your eyes enkindle | |
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| From grie | |