Three Sonnets from The Canzoniere (trans. A.S. Kline) by Francesco Petrarch (1304-1374)

It Was the Morning (Sonnet 3)

It was on that day when the sun's ray

was darkened in pity for its Maker,

that I was captured, and did not defend myself,

because your lovely eyes had bound me, Lady.

It did not seem to me to be a time to guard myself

against Love's blows: so I went on

confident, unsuspecting; from that, my troubles

started, amongst the public sorrows.

Love discovered me all weaponless,

and opened the way to the heart through the eyes,

which are made the passageways and doors of tears:

so that it seems to me it does him little honour

to wound me with his arrow, in that state,

he not showing his bow at all to you who are armed.

Father in Heaven (Sonnet 62)

Heavenly Father, after the lost days,

after the nights spent wandering,

with that fierce desire that burned in my heart,

gazing on limbs adorned to do me harm,

now may it please you by Your light I turn

to the greater life and the sweeter work,

so that my harsh adversary having cast

his nets in vain, may be discredited.

Now, my Lord, the eleventh year revolves

since I was bowed under that pitiless yoke,

which to those most subject to it is most fierce.

Have pity on my unworthy suffering:

lead back my wandering thoughts to a better place:

remind them how you hung, today, upon the cross.

She Used to Let Her Golden Hair Fly Free (Sonnet 90)

She let her gold hair scatter in the breeze

that twined it in a thousand sweet knots,

and wavering light, beyond measure, would burn

in those beautiful eyes, which are now so dim:

and it seemed to me her face wore the colour

of pity, I do not know whether false or true:

I who had the lure of love in my breast,

what wonder if I suddenly caught fire?

Her way of moving was no mortal thing,

but of angelic form: and her speech

rang higher than a mere human voice.

A celestial spirit, a living sun

was what I saw: and if she is not such now,

the wound's not healed, although the bow is slack.