Though the day is nearly over, I could not let it pass without acknowledgment. Today is the birthday of true Renaissance man, and fellow lefty, Michelangelo Buonarroti. He has been my favorite artist since high school. One of the most exciting days of my life was the day I stood inside the Sistine Chapel. He was not only a painter and a scupltor, but also an architect and a poet. It is this last mentioned of his talents which did not gain him notice during his lifetime. This is because his poetry was not written for public consumption.
Here is one of his unfinished sonnets. This one was written to his former love, Gherardo Perini.
Over here it was that my love stole from me,
In his mercy, my heart and, farther on, my life.
Here with his beautiful eyes he promised me help,
And with the same eyes here he stole it back.
Over here he bound me and here released me;
For myself I wept here, and with infinite sorrow
From this rock I saw him leave,
He who stole myself from me and never turned back.
It has such a note of pain and abandonment that it is difficult to read and easy to see why he must have left it unfinished.
1 comment:
That is so sad.
Jai
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