Dante and Beatrice

After Henry Holiday’s Dante and Beatrice

Amore mio unico, why do you

hastily betake yourself to a path

too perilous for a pure soul to tread

alone? Stay a while, I beseech you!

Slightly turn to your left side, look at me,

listen to me, and let an aching heart

clear my name right here on the bridge

of Santa Trìnita, for it bears witness

to my innocence and passion for you.

Beneath the light, airy cream long dress

your slender legs move alternately

pretty sharpish, in a direction that

might otherwise keep us separate

forever. Stay a while, I beseech you!

For the sake of the single flower you clasp

firmly in your left hand and hold high

to your rattling chest, amore mio,

turn right and look at your erotic self

as she leans backwards, right arm akimbo,

and glances sideways, over your shoulder,

at my steady gaze that is kept fixed on you.

Desires, even though repressed, never stop

fiddling, flirting, and flicking across a heart.

A daredevil, amore mio, you can’t hide!

Or turn back to face your melancholy self,

still with your frigid stare, as she moves

sluggishly while dumbly casting an agonized

look at a figure that feels himself falling

at any time without grasping the stone bridge

with the only hand that is not used to

hide an aching heart with blood trickling down.

Amore mio unico, as you

walk swiftly, past my side, away from the bridge,

I dare to say, in the name of the Santa Trìnita,

that you, both three and one, won’t let a heart,

as crumpled as the creases on my black gown,

as pure as yours, be adorned with thick thorns.

How many souls have been trapped in a sham

marriage? Can’t you hear the groans coming

from the pigeonholes flanking the River Arno?

Don’t dilly-dally, amore mio,

just stay and look at me, I beseech you!