Firstpublished:1505 in Frottole libro 2 (Petrucci, Venice), no. 3 Description: A Frottola.
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Original text and translations
Italian text
Veste quel locho amore se te ricorda,
Ove per dar principio a piu mio male
De tua man me tirasti tanti strali
Ch'al'archo non basto solo una corda
Qui placide acoglienze vidi e sdegni
Qui gia fu lieto e tal hor semi morto
Ch'a tua forza non val insidie o inganni.
Et qui la voglia al suo mal troppo ingorda
Si levo a volo non havendo l'ale
Qui cade che i pensier son tutti frali
Se'l poter col voler ben non s'accorda
Ma del dolor ch'io provo ho un sol conforto
Ch'io t'ho gia rotto milli bei desegni
Che ognun al mio fallir s'e facto a corto
English translation
This is the place, love reminds me,
Where most of my suffering began
Your hand drew so many arrows at me
That one string on your bow was not enough
Here placid welcomes I saw and disdain
Here he was already happy, and so now half dead
That to thy strength is not worth snares or deceptions.
And here your will to do evil was too greedy
I rises, though I have no wings
Here I fall, all my thoughts are frigid,
As you have power of will do to good but do not
But I have but one comfort in the pain I feel
For a thousand beautiful designs I have already broken
That every one of my failures have brought your attention.
Italian text
English translation