Journal of Italian Translation - Brooklyn College - Academic Home ...

Joan E. Borrelli / Francesca Turini Bufalini
The park at Marino 5
Between two peaks that rise in sylvan mountains,
bridled by walls, lies a secluded plain
with plants adorned, where sun vies but in vain,
so thickly locked together the limbs join.
At higher ground upwell crystalline fountains,
thousands in form, where master’s hand took rein,
where wave’s sound pours afar to ascertain;
prizes of art and nature joined as one.
So gladdening a view, skill without peer—
a forest glen into paradise made,
amid fields, waters pleasureful and clear.
There, bands of beasts career in escapade.
Here, choirs of singing birds confound the ear,
so sweet, I plunge into yet deeper shade.
On maternal love 6
O you, of that Eternal Love
a fruit Heaven-conceived, a flame wellborn
and fuelled as pious mother’s breast you feed on.
Your sainted ardor does not fear
scorn’s ice; but rather, from afar,
burns more, will not retreat, and fans out farther.
How sweeter, gentler, for my son your flare,
if the regard he held within
for me, to mine for him were twin.
(untitled) 7
If you raise mirror upward,
the glass will show you sky, my foolish soul;
as, turned in reverse, downward,
the earth, which you, so drunken, swallowed whole.
Look skyward to Love’s citadel,
if it is with God you’d dwell,
and all things of this low terrain
despise. Those bring you but travail and pain.
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