by Michelangelo Buonarroti
translation by Gilbert Wesley Purdy
To return there where once appeared before
That immortal form, your earthly keep,
Like an angel filled with blushing modesty
To heal each mind, all the world would honor.
This alone I desire, and is Love to me itself;
Not to penetrate your serene composure:
The thing which Love has yet to discompose for
Having only hold of hope, in which virtue dwells.
Nor otherwise embrace things new and rare
By which nature gets its way; it is heaven
From out its endless bounties clothes you so.
Nor does God display His grace for me elsewhere
More than in that most sweet and mortal raiment;
And which alone I love, seeing there its picture go.
Gilbert Wesley Purdy's work in poetry, prose and translation has appeared in many journals, paper and electronic, including: Jacket Magazine (Australia); Poetry International (San Diego State University); Grand Street; the Valparaiso Poetry Review; The Pedestal Magazine; SLANT (University of Central Arkansas); Orbis (UK); Eclectica; and Quarterly Literary Review Singapore. His work in journalism has been cited by MSNBC, Newsweek, and Americas.Org. His Hyperlinked Online Bibliography is now also hosted at BlogSpot.
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