by Claudio Achillini (1574 - 1640)
Translation © by Garrett Medlock

Se i languidi miei sguardi
Language: Italian (Italiano) 
Our translations:  ENG RUS
Se i languidi miei sguardi,
se i sospiri interrotti,
se le tronche parole
non han sin or potuto,
o bell’idolo mio,
farvi delle mie fiamme intera fede,
leggete queste note,
credete a questa carta,
a questa carta in cui
sotto forma d’inchiostro il cor stillai.
Qui sotto scorgerete
quegl’interni pensieri
che con passi d’amore
scorron l’anima mia;
anzi, avvampar vedrete
come in sua propria sfera
nelle vostre bellezze il foco mio.

Non è già parte in voi
che con forza invisibile d’amore
tutto a sè non mi tragga:
altro già non son io
che di vostra beltà preda e trofeo.
A voi mi volgo, o chiome,
cari miei lacci d’oro:
deh, come mai potea scampar sicuro
se come lacci l’anima legaste,
come oro la compraste?
Voi, pur voi dunque siete
della mia libertà catena e prezzo.
Stami miei preziosi,
bionde fila divine,
con voi l’eterna Parca
sovra il fuso fatal mia vita torce.

Voi, voi capelli d’oro,
voi pur siete di lei,
ch’è tutta il foco mio, raggi e faville;
ma, se faville siete,
onde avvien che ad ogn’ora
contro l’uso del foco in giù scendete?
Ah che a voi per salir scender conviene,
ché la magion celeste ove aspirate,
o sfera de gli ardori, o paradiso,
è posta in quel bel viso.

Cara mia selva d’oro,
ricchissimi capelli,
in voi quel labirinto Amor intesse
onde uscir non saprà l’anima mia.
Tronchi pur morte i rami
del prezioso bosco
e da la fragil carne
scuota pur lo mio spirto,
che tra fronde sì belle, anco recise,
rimarrò prigioniero,
fatto gelida polve ed ombra ignuda.

Dolcissimi legami,
belle mie piogge d’oro
quali or sciolte cadete
da quelle ricche nubi
onde raccolte siete
e, cadendo, formate
preziose procelle
onde con onde d’or bagnando andate
scogli di latte e rivi d’alabastro,
more subitamente
(o miracolo eterno
d’amoroso desìo)
fra si belle tempeste arse il cor mio.

Ma già l’ora m’invita,
o degli affetti miei nunzia fedele,
cara carta amorosa,
che dalla penna ti divida omai;
vanne, e s’amor e’l cielo
cortese ti concede
che de’ begli occhi non t’accenda il raggio,
ricovra entro il bel seno:
chi sà che tu non gionga
da sì felice loco
per sentieri di neve a un cor di foco!

Text Authorship:

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Garrett Medlock) , "If my languid glances", copyright © 2019, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • RUS Russian (Русский) (Elena Kalinina) , "Eсли гоpестные мои взоры", copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 78
Word count: 372

If my languid glances
Language: English  after the Italian (Italiano) 
If my languid glances,
if the interrupted sighs,
if the cut off words
have not yet been able,
oh my beautiful idol,
to convince you entirely of my burning [love],
read these notes,
believe this letter,
this letter in which
my heart was poured out beneath the shape of the ink.
Here beneath, glimpse
those internal thoughts
which with strides of love
course from my soul;
better still, see my fire flare up
as in its own sphere
within your beauty.

There is now no part in you
which with the invisible power of love
does not draw me to itself:
I am now but another 
prey and trophy of your beauty.
To you I turn myself, oh hair,
my dear lace of gold:
ah, how could one ever escape safely
when like lace the soul you bind,
[when] like gold you purchase it?
You are then truly
[both] the chain and price of my liberty.
Remain with me my precious,
divine blonde strand,
with you the eternal Fate
twists my life upon the spindle of fate.

You, you golden hair,
you truly are rays and sparks of she
who is all of my fire;
but, if you are sparks,
then how is it that you are always 
falling down unlike fire?
Ah, for you to ascend you must descend,
because the heavenly manor toward which you aspire,
oh sphere of the passions, oh paradise,
is fixed in that beautiful face.

My beloved, golden forest,
richest hair,
in you Cupid weaves a labyrinth
such that my soul will not know how to get out.
May death cut the branches
of the precious forest
and shake off my spirit
from my fragile flesh,
that among fronds so beautiful, although cut,
I will remain the prisoner,
made of nothing but frozen dust and naked shadow.

Sweetest bonds,
my beautiful golden rain,
now loosened, you fall
from those rich clouds
where you are gathered up,
and, falling, form
precious storms,
wave upon wave of gold go forth bathing
the milky rocks and alabaster streams,
suddenly
(oh eternal miracle
of amorous desire)
among such beautiful, burning tempests my heart perishes.

But now the hour informs me,
oh faithful messenger of my affections,
dear love letter,
that from my pen you are to be divided now;
go, and if Cupid and 
kind Heaven grant
that the light of her beautiful eyes does not shine upon you,
find shelter within her beautiful breast:
who is to say that you may not arrive
through the paths of snow 
of such a happy place to a heart of fire!

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2019 by Garrett Medlock, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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This text was added to the website: 2019-09-17
Line count: 78
Word count: 431