The poem Aï faus ris, written in three languages (French,
Latin, Italian) is reprinted by permission of Casa editrice
Le Lettere from Dante Alighieri, Rime, a cura di Domenico De
Robertis (Edizione Nazionale delle Opere di Dante Alighieri
a cura della Società Dantesca Italiana), Firenze, Le Lettere,
2002, vol. II, pp. 243-256.  The English translation was
prepared by Massimiliano Chiamenti and is used with his
permission.  While Michele Barbi includes it among the rime
dubbie, both De Robertis and Chiamenti believe it is in fact
Dante's genuine work.  Barbi himself found similarities with
the rime petrose (C-CIII).  If it were to be included among the
genuine poems of Dante, it probably ought to be included as
perhaps the penultimate of these (e.g., as "102a").  It is
presented here last for no other reason than its continuing
status among Dantists as not officially being part of the canon.  That
it appears here at all is evidence that some scholars of
importance believe that it ought to be considered genuine.
 
CXIX

   Aï faus ris, pour quoi traï aves
oculos meos? et quid tibi feci,
che fatta m'hai sì dispietata fraude?
Iam audivissent verba mea Greci!
Se ounques autres, dame, et vous saves
che 'ngannator non è degno di laude.
Tu sai ben come gaude
miserum eius cor qui prestolatur:
je l'esper [t]ant, et pas de moi ne cure.
Aï Dieus, quante malure
atque fortuna ruinosa datur
a colui ch'aspettando il tempo perde,
né già mai tocca di fioretto il verde.

   Conqueror, cor suave, de te primo,
che per un matto guardamento d'occhi
vous ne dovries avoir perdu la loi;
ma e' mi piace che li dardi e stocchi
semper insurgant contra me de limo,
dont je serai mort, par foi que je croi.
Fort me desplait pour moi,
ch'io son punito ed aggio colpa nulla,
nec dicit ipsa: "Malum est de isto":
unde querelam sisto.
Ella sa ben che se 'l mio cor si crulla
a penser d'autre, que de li amour lessoit,
li faus cuers grant paine an porteroit.

   Ben avrà questa donna cuor di ghiaccio
et tant d'aspresse que, par ma foi, est fors,
nisi pietatem habuerit servo.
Bien set Amours, se je n'en ai secors,
che per lei dolorosa morte faccio
neque plus vitam sperando conservo.
Ve omni meo nervo,
s'elle ne fet que par soun sen verai
ch'ïo vegna a veder sua faccia allegra.
Ahï Dio, quant'è integra!
Mes je m'en doute, si grant dolor en ai:
amorem versus me non tantum curat
quantum spes in me de ipsa durat.

   Chanson, or puez aler par tout le monde,
namque locutus sum in lingua trina
ut gravis mea spina
si saccia per lo mondo. Ogn'uomo il senta:
forse n'avrà pietà chi mi tormenta.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
CXIX

Alas, false smile, why did you betray
my eyes? And what had I done to you,
that you have treated me with such implacable dishonesty?
Even Greeks might have paid attention to my words!
And at least as well as other ladies you know, my lady,
that a deceiver is not praiseworthy.
You know very well how much delight
the saddened heart of one who waits may feel:
I still have hope in her, but she cares not for me.
Alas, God, what calamity,
what ruinous misfortune is inflicted
on one who, waiting, wastes his time,
never touching the flower while it's green.

I lament, my tender heart, first of all for you,
you who should not have lost control
just because of a foolish stare from her eyes;
and yet it pleases me that darts and rapiers
always rise against me from her oblique eyes,
because of which I will be dead, in faith.
I feel very sorry for myself,
for I am punished while I have no guilt;
nor does she say: "no good can come of this":
therefore, I give over my complaint.
She knows too well that if my heart should swerve
to thinking of another, abandoning its love of her,
my false heart then would feel great pain.

For surely then must this lady have a heart of ice
and {therefore be} so harsh --
unless she show some pity for her slave.
And Love knows well, unless I have relief,
I will endure a painful death because of her;
no longer can I stay alive through hope alone.
Woe to all my sinews,
unless she allows me, of her own consent,
to see her joyous face.
Alas, God, that she is so unwavering!
But I am afraid, so great is the pain I have from her:
the love she feels for me is not as great
as the hope that lasts in me for her.

Song, you may wing yourself anywhere in this world,
since I have been speaking with a triple tongue,
to make my painful thorn
known everywhere. Let all the world hear:
perhaps the one who puts me to the torture will show me mercy.