Salt Magazine

Jessica Harkins: Gaspara Stampa, Poems

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Jessica Harkins

Jessica Harkins’ poems have appeared, or are appearing, in Stand, Agenda (Broadsheet 6), Baybury Review, Estero, Redactions, Fire and ARS Interpre.  My awards in poetry include the Norma Lowry Prize in Poetry at Washington University, and second place prizes from the Academy of American Poets and the Walter and Nancy Kidd Prize at the University of Oregon, judged by Dave Smith.  I have attended, on scholarship, summer writing workshops in Squaw Valley, Napa Valley, and Prague.  I earned an MFA in poetry at Washington University, where I am currently completing a dissertation in medieval literature.  

51.

May you come, Love, to gaze upon my glory
and also yours, since the work of your arrows
has made us both bright and immortal
wherever anyone loves and longs for Love.

It makes me bright, because I did not refuse
to accept your mortal blows —
since I was taken by his eyes, those
that nature has never made since or before;

it makes you bright, because I try to praise you
as much as I can in verse and in speech
with wit and in that vein which you gave me.

Now you need to prevent that sun,
which woke me to be my guide and support,
from leaving my eyes lightless and alone.

  Vieni, Amor, a veder la gloria mia,
e poi la tua; ché l’opra de’ tuoi strali
ha fatto ambeduo noi chiari, immortali,
ovunque per Amor s’ama e disia.
  Chiara fe me, perché non fui restia
ad accettar i tuoi colpi mortali,
essendo gli occhi, onde fui presa, quali
natura non fe’ mai poscia, né pria;
  chiaro fe’ te, perché a lodarti vegno
quanto più posso in rime ed in parole
con quella, che m’hai dato, vena e ingegno.
  Or a te si convien far che quel sole,
che mi desti per guida e per sostegno,
non lasci oscure queste luci e sole.

83.

Ah me —the night brimming with joy,
the tranquil days, and the serene life —
how did the bitter removal take them from me
and change my entire state into restlessness?

And since I still fear — which grieves me more —
that my memory may have left
the cruel count who wounded me,
what remains for me now, if not death?

And I wish to die, since my eyes cannot rest
on someone other than he who was mine,
since they only know to gaze upon him.

May women to come take this lesson:
do not to send your desires so far away,
for they cannot be withdrawn from the trap.

  Oimè, le notti mie colme di gioia,
i dì tranquilli, e la serena vita,
come mi tolse amara dipartita,
e converse il mio stato tutto in noia?
  e perché temo ancor, che più m’annoie,
che la memoria mia sia dipartita
da quel conte crudel, che m’ha ferita,
che mi resta altro omai, se non ch’io moia?
  E vo’ morir, ché rimirar d’altrui
quel che fu mio quest’occhi non potranno,
perché mirar non sanno altri che lui.
  Prendano essempio l’altre che verrano
a non mandar tant’oltre i disir sui,
che ritrar non si possan da l’inganno.

113.

Ah, if only I were sure that the state
in which I find myself would not soon be gone —
since I am glad one moment, mournful the next —
I would be the happiest that I have been.

I have Love and my lord beside me,
and find solace with one, then the other;
and, since one of them always troubles me,
I run back to the first, who appeases me.

If Love assails me with jealousy,
I turn to the face which seals in itself
virtue that chases away every torment.

If my lord wars against me with rage,
Love approaches with the other companion:
true humility, that brings each high offense to earth.

  Deh, foss’io almen sicura che lo stato,
dov’or mi trovo, non mancasse presto,
perché, sì come or è lieto ed or mesto,
sarebbe il più felice che sia stato.
  I’ho Amore e ‘l mio signor a lato,
e mi consolo or con quello, or con questo;
e, sempre che di loro un mi molesto,
ricorro a l’altro, che m’è poi pacato.
  S’Amor mi assale con la gelosia,
Mi volgo al viso, che ’n sé dentro serra
virtù ch’ogni tormento scaccia via:
  se il mio signor mi fa con ira guerra,
viene Amor poi con l’altra compagnia,
vera umiltà ch’ogni alto sdegno attera.


128.

If I ever said it, lord, then may my fire
for you be taken, as I burn in living flame;
if I ever said it, may I be stripped
of bitterness and my heart freed from its knot.

If I ever said it, then may the light of your face —
which I think and write of every hour —
never show itself again to my own light,
which shrinks from any other.

If I ever said it, then may fortune, caring nothing
for my pain, inflame all men in turn
and the gods against me, to my complete ruin.

But if I did not say it, and never did a thing
that deserves your reproach, make my life
now as it was: light and joyful.

  S’io ’l dissi mai, signor, che mi sia tolto
l’arder per voi, com’ardo in fiamma viva;
s’io ’l dissi mai, ch’io resti d’amar priva,
e resti il cor del suo bel laccio sciolto.
  S’io ’l dissi mai, che ’l lume del bel volto,
di cui convien ch’ognor ragioni e scriva,
a la mia luce di tutt’altro schiva
non si mostri giamai poco né molto.
  S’io ’l dissi mai, che gli uomini a vicenda
tutti, e li dèi, fortuna disdegnosa
a mio danno, a ruina ultima accenda.
  Ma s’io nol dissi, e non feci mai cosa
degna del vostro sdegno, omai si renda
la vita mia, qual fu, lieta e gioiosa.


155.

The sky has already turned two years and more
since I was snared in love’s birdlime
for a beauty, I dare to say,
whose equal was never seen in mortal cloth.

So I reveal this beauty and do not hide it,
and I do not repent; rather I glory and rejoice;
and, if a woman ever delighted, I delight
in this amorous flame, and this ice.

And I only worry that the hour may come
when the beauty all things burn for and love
may free itself from me, and bind elsewhere.

And if Death ever responds to those who pray,
I beg her not to let me, before I die,
see the beloved crown of leaves go to another.

  Due anni e più ha già voltato il cielo,
ch’io restai presa a l’amoroso visco
per una beltà tal, che dirlo ardisco,
simil mai non si vide in mortal velo:
  per questo i lo divolgo, e non lo celo,
e non mi pento, anzi glorio e gioisco;
e, se donna giamai gradì, gradisco
questa fiamma amorosa e questo gelo;
  e duolmi sol, se sarà mai quel’ora,
che da me si disciolga e leghi altronde.
  E, se Morte a chi prega unqua risponde,
la prego che permetta, anzi ch’io mora,
che non vegga d’altrui l’amata fronde.

192.

Love, your state resembles exactly
a wheel that always, continually turns,
and whoever is upon you now sings, and now sighs,
and without ever stopping now descends, now climbs —

now calls you faithful, now treacherous;
now makes peace with you, now rages;
now surrenders to you like prey, now pulls back;
now fears in good moments, now hopes in bad;

now rises to the sky, now falls into Hell;
now is far from the shore, now reaches the port;
now trembles in midsummer, now sweats in winter.

I, miserably, in my greatest comfort,
am attacked by an inner suspicion
that keeps my heart between living and dying.

  Amor, lo stato tuo è proprio quale
è una ruota, che mai sempre gira,
e chi v’è suso or canta ed or sospira,
e senza mai fermarsi or scende or sale.
  Or ti chiama fedele, or disleale;
or fa pace con teco, ed or s’adira;
ora ti si dà in preda, or si ritira;
or nel ben teme, ed or spera nel male;
  or s’alza in cielo, or cade ne l’inferno;
or è lunge dal lido, or giunge in porto;
or trema in mezza state, or suda il verno.
  Io, lassa ma, nel mio maggior conforto
sono assalita d’un sospetto interno,
che mi tien sempre il cor tra vivo e morto.

 


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