TODI, Jacopone da
Rapture divine
When the mind's very being is gone,
Sunk in a conscious sleep,
In a rapture divine and deep,
Itself in the Godhead lost:
It is conquered, ravished, and won!
Set in Eternity's sweep,
Gazing back on the steep,
Knowing not how it was crossed -
To a new world now it is tossed,
Drawn from its former state,
To another, measureless, great,
Where Love is drowned in the Sea.
Of Man's Perfection In Love
0 minstrel, raise thy plaintive melody,
and let thy song be tender to my soul:
upon the subtle ninefold modes of love
display the secrets of a lover's heart.
One moment parted from the Friend, I die:
revive my heart with thy life-giving stream
that I may come into the lovers' ring
and grace the lovers' circle. Let me pass
one moment from the world, and for an hour
I will not heed my selfhood: being lost
to this false being, let me swiftly move
to realms of drunkenness where, like the drunk,
I will commence the dance, and raise the cry
of yearning love - for truly I do yearn
for my Beloved - standing in the field
of high ambition. I will shake my wings
like sacrificial bird, and fly at last
from empty word to true reality.
Then will I tell in order, each by each,
the beauty of the Friend, the lover's love.
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O figlio, figlio, figlio, figlio, amoroso giglio! Figlio, chi dà consiglio al cor me’ angustïato?
figlio, co’ non respundi? Figlio, perché t’ascundi al petto o’ sì lattato?
Madonna, ecco la croce, che la gente l’aduce, ove la vera luce déi essere levato.
O croce, e que farai? El figlio meo torrai? E que ci aponerai, che no n’à en sé peccato?
Soccurri, plena de doglia, cà ’l tuo figliol se spoglia; la gente par che voglia che sia martirizzato
Se i tollit’el vestire, lassatelme vedere, com’en crudel firire tutto l’ò ensanguenato.
Donna, gli hanno preso una mano e l’hanno stesa sulla croce; l’hanno spaccata con un chiodo, tanto gliel’hanno conficcato.
ennella croce se stende e lo dolor s’accende, ch’è plu multiplicato.
e clavellanse al lenno; onne iontur’ aprenno, tutto l’ò sdenodato.
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Oh son, son, son, son, loving lily! Son, who will give comfort to my anguished heart?
son, why don’t you answer me? Son, why are you hiding from the breast that fed you?
Mary, here’s the cross brought by crowd, onto which the true light will have to be lifted.
Oh cross, what will you do? Will you take my son? And what will you accuse him of, since he hasn’t committed any sins?
Help him, oh you who are full of sorrow, because your son is undressed; it seems that the crowd wants for him to be martyrized.
If you take his clothes away, let me see how they bathed him in blood by inflicting cruel wounds on him.
My Lady, they’ve taken one of his hands and laid it on the cross; they’ve broken it with a nail, so deeply they’ve planted it in.
and they’re laying it on the cross, and the pain burns, more and more intensely.
and nailing them to the wood; opening his every joint, they’ve completely dislocated him.
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