Michelangelo 21

Michelangelo 21

Whoever is born is bound to die –borne along Time to the end at last. The sun leaves nothing here alive. Pleasure and anguish, both are lost with all our words and all our thoughts. And all the worth of our families’ stocks is a shadow in the sunlight, smoke in the breeze. As are the rest of you, so were we: as happy, as miserable. We were men. We are not, as you see, as we were then. We are dust in the sun, deprived of life. Everything here is bound to die. Once our eyes were filled to the brim with shining lights in these socketed caves; now they are hollow, black and grim –brought by Time to this, its wake.

Michelangelo 94

D’altrui pietoso e sol di sé spietato nasce un vil bruto, che con pena e doglia l’altrui man veste e la suo scorza spoglia e sol per morte si può dir ben nato. Così volesse al mie signor mie fato vestir suo viva di mie morta spoglia che, come serpe al sasso si discoglia, pur per morte potria cangiar mie stato. O fussi sol la mie l’irsuta pelle che, del suo pel contesta, fa tal gonna che con ventura stringe sì bel seno, ch’i’ l’are’ pure il giorno; o le pianelle che fanno a quel di lor basa e colonna, ch’i’ pur ne porterei duo nevi almeno.