from Of the Months
Next, for October, to some shelter'd coign
Flouting the winds I'll hope to find you slunk:
Though in bird-shooting (lest all sport be sunk),
Your foot still press the turf, the horse your groin.
At night with sweethearts in the dance you'll join,
And drink the blessed must, and get quite drunk.
There's no such life for any human trunk;
And that's a truth that rings like golden coin!
Then, out of bed again when morning's come,
Let your hands drench your face refreshingly,
And take your physic roast, with flask and knife.
Sounder and snugger you shall feel at home
Than lake-fish, river-fish, or fish at sea,
Inheriting the cream of Christian life.
~~
Folgore da San Geminiano (?1270-1332?)
translated by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)
from The Early Italian Poets, 1861
[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]
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Folgore da San Geminiano biography
Dante Gabriel Rossetti biography
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Relief of a medieval scene of three couples dancing. Wikimedia Commons.
I finally find some time to visit again George. I do love and appreciate your poetry blog tremendously. I promise to attempt to visit to read more often.
ReplyDeleteThis fine Petrarchan sonnet ... telling it like it is.
A new word for me George: coign (noun): a projecting corner or angle of a wall or building (pronounced "coin"). Scoffing, mocking the winds. Pressing upon, your foot the turf, the horse your groin.
My goodness c. 1270-1332! And still rings true. And well done! 🥰
I always appreciate your visiting the blog, but plese don't feel obligated. When you do visit you leave comments that are not only kind but often educational, which is more than most do.
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