For this week, here's something slightly different: a prose translation (by Robert Durling) of the famous moment when Petrarch sees Laura for the first time. Enjoy the poem!
Rime Sparse 65
Alas, I was little wary at first, the day when Love came to wound me, who step by step has become lord of my life and sits and the summit!
I did not believe that by the power of his file any bit of strength or worthiness would fail in my hardened heart, but so he goes who esteems himself too highly.
Form now on any defense is too late, except to test whether Love looks on mortal prayers much or little.
I do not pray--nor can it be--that my heart burn moderately, but that she have her part of the fire.
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