Petrarch*

Petrarch (1304―1374) is an Italian writer and intellectual who composed both in Latin and in the Italian vernacular. His masterwork, today known as Canzoniere, is a collection of 366 poems that have immeasurably influenced the Western tradition.

He was born in Arezzo, south of Florence. As a boy he met Dante Alighieri, who, like his parents, was of the White Guelph party, and a fellow Florentine exile. When he was 26, Petrarch received the patronage of the wealthy Colonna family, which enabled him to pursue his own interests, and to amass the largest private library in Europe. Especially in his latter years, he was a devout Roman Catholic who daily recited the Liturgy of the Hours.

Appearing this month from W.W. Norton is A.M. Juster’s new translation of Petrarch’s Canzoniere. He explains that his goal “was to imitate closely Petrarch’s music and fresh language, while being faithful to the text [trying to] sidestep problems of recent translations by translating sentences as units and avoiding word-for-word translation unless it worked as poetry.”

Dana Gioia’s responded to this new translation by saying, “I find it impossible to overpraise this new edition of Petrarch’s Canzoniere… A.M. Juster’s rhymed translations re-create Petrarch’s forms without losing either their lyrical passion or vernacular energy.”

from Canzoniere 264

I ponder, and self-pity then assails
my thoughts so much it keeps on leading me
to weeping differently,
since, seeing every day the end is near,
I ask God for those wings repeatedly,
so that with them my intellect could sail
out of this mortal jail
and up into the realm of Heaven’s spere,
and yet, until right now, no sigh, nor tear,
nor prayer has done much good, which fits the bill,
since anybody who can stand up straight,
yet falls along the way, deserves the fate
of lying on the ground against his will.
I see, trustworthy still,
forgiving, open arms; through torn apart
by what some do, my heart
is gripped by fear that rocks my mental state;
someone prods me; and it may be too late.

Posted with permission of the translator.

*This is the third Kingdom Poets post about Petrarch: first post, second post.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of six poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Poiema/Cascade), plus three anthologies — available through Wipf & Stock. His new book The Role of the Moon, inspired by the Metaphysical Poets, is now available from Paraclete Press.

Jesse Keith Butler

Jesse Keith Butler is an Orthodox Christian poet who has recently published his first collection, The Living Law, with Darkly Bright Press. He lives in Ottawa with his wife and two children.

By day, Jesse is a program evaluator for the Government of Canada, assessing the effectiveness of government programs in relation to their objectives. He previously did a PhD in education, during which time he published widely in academic journals on the topics of citizenship education, educational policy, and Indigenous education. Jesse and his wife also have a long history of working with Indigenous communities, including two summers spent working with a Christian organization on a First Nations reserve in northern Ontario.

A.M. Juster has written, "With this debut collection, Jesse Butler is joining the growing group of Canadian poets who are taking poetry away from the academy and returning it to a broader audience of poetry lovers. Butler's poems are thoughtful, well-crafted, and a pleasure to read."

The following poem has previously appeared in Solum Journal, and is from The Living Law (2024, Darkly Bright Press).

Villanelle of the Elect

So Jacob was loved, and Esau was hated.
It seems like a bit of an uneven deal.
You won’t stop creating this world you’ve created.

If Esau had hope it was quickly deflated.
The subtle supplanter had him by the heel.
But Jacob was loved, and Esau was hated.

Outside of the city, with heaven ungated
and rungs reaching down, Jacob glimpsed what was real—
you still were creating this world you’d created.

Poor Esau found Jacob’s thin soup overrated
when robbed of his birthright for one meatless meal.
Yet Jacob was loved, and Esau was hated.

You grappled with Jacob. He grunted and grated
while you danced, delighted to meet with such zeal
as you kept creating this world you’d created.

There’s purpose in life but the path isn’t fated.
You unspool these urgings we don’t even feel.
And Jacob was loved. And Esau was hated.
You keep on creating this world you’ve created.

Posted with permission of the poet.

This post was first suggested by my friend Burl Horniachek.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of five poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Cascade) ― a book of poems written from the point-of-view of angels. His books are available through Wipf & Stock.

Petrarch*

Petrarch (Fransesco Petrarca) (1304―1374) is an important Italian poet whose influence ― particularly as the originator and populariser of the sonnet ― is still felt today. Although best known for his poetry, he was also a significant scholar. His influence can be seen in the spread of humanism, which Petrarch saw as being no contradiction with his stand as a dedicated Christian.

Sometime between 1342 and 1353 Petrarch wrote Secretum ― a personal reflection on his life and the significance of his faith to him, in the form of an imaginary dialogue with Augustine. It begins with Augustine criticizing Petrarch for not having dedicated himself completely to God, through his love for the things of this world and his desire for literary fame. Secretum ― though not published within his lifetime, and possibly written only for his private reflection and self-criticism ― also became an important work.

One of the things of this world he was obsessed with was a beautiful, unobtainable woman named Laura, who was married to someone else. The Canzoniere is his book of sonnets and other poems concerning his love for her, and his sorrow at her premature death. The following poem is from The Canzoniere, and was translated by A.M. Juster. This translation appeared in The Christian Century in 2022.

363

Death dimmed the sun that dazzled brilliantly;
my eyes, intact and healthy, are in shade.
She is now dust who made me flame and fade;
like elms or oaks my laurels wilt for me,
so that I see my goal, though agony
remains. No one else made my thoughts afraid
and bold, nor chilled and scorched them, nor conveyed
full hope, nor flooded them with misery.
Released by one who jabs and mollifies,
who tortured me for many years before,
my freedom’s bittersweet, I realize,
and to the Lord I thank and I adore,
whose eyes sustain and oversee the skies,
I turn—world-weary, not desiring more.

Posted with permission of the translator.

*This is the second Kingdom Poets post about Petrarch: first post, third post.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of five poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Cascade) ― a book of poems written from the point-of-view of angels. His books are available through Wipf & Stock.

Jennifer Reeser

Jennifer Reeser is a formalist Louisiana poet who has published five collections, including: An Alabaster Flask, and Sonnets from the Dark Lady and Other Poems, which was a finalist for the Donald Justice Prize.

She has been highly praised by such formalist poets as X.J Kennedy and A.M. Juster, who called her “…our top Native American poet.” As a translator, she has published poetry from Russian (Anna Akhmatova), French, and various Native American languages.

Her recent collection Indigenous (Able Muse Press) was awarded “Best Poetry Book of 2019” by Englewood Review of Books. Her new book Strong Feather is scheduled to appear this March.

The following poem is from Indigenous and was included in the anthology Christian Poetry in America Since 1940 (2022, Paraclete Press).

O Great Spirit

Great Spirit of the God who is alive,
Whose risen Son I seek before the dawn
Who makes the black and gold sunflower thrive
The earthworm loosen soil beneath the lawn;
Great Spirit, grant my late grandmothers’ looks
Attend me while I rub her cherry hutch.
Great Spirit, grant my late grandfather’s books
Preserve his signature I love to touch.
Surround and show to me that massive clouds
Of witnesses ― undauntable or docile.
Allow their countenances to enshroud
My shoulders, spoken of by Your Apostle.
Send generous Nunnehi to my steeple,
Returning me at last to my dark people.

Posted with permission of the poet.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of five poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Cascade) ― a book of poems written from the point-of-view of angels. His books are available through Wipf & Stock.

A.M. Juster

A.M. Juster is a champion of formal verse in his work as a poet, as a translator, and as a critic. His tenth book of poetry is Wonder and Wrath (2020, Paul Dry Books). He also serves as Poetry Editor for Plough Quarterly.

As a translator he has brought to English Latin works by Petrarch, Horace, Tibullus, St. Aldelm, and Maximianus, as well as a book-length collection of John Milton’s Latin elegies. He has also translated poems from French, Italian, Chinese, and the east African language Oromo.

In 2010, Paul Mariani revealed, in the pages of First Things, A.M. Juster’s alternate identity. He is Michael James Astrue, who at the time was the Commissioner of the Social Security Administration in Washington, D.C. Mariani pointed out the subtle hint in Juster’s poem “Candid Headstone”―
-------Here lies what’s left of Michael Juster,
-------A failure filled with bile and bluster.
-------Regard the scuttlebutt as true.
-------Feel free to dance; most others do.

Juster is a Catholic, who is celebrated for his wit and finely-crafted light verse. The title of his 2016 collection, Sleaze & Slander: New and Selected Comic Verse, 1995-2015, makes this clear enough. His wit and creativity also comes through in his parody The Billy Collins Experience (2016, Kelsay Books).

Cancer Prayer

Dear Lord,

Please flood her nerves with sedatives
and keep her strong enough to crack a smile
so disbelieving friends and relatives
can temporarily sustain denial.

Please smite that intern in oncology
who craves approval from department heads.
Please ease her urge to vomit; let there be
kind but flirtatious men in nearby beds.

Given her hair, consider amnesty
for sins of vanity; make mirrors vanish.
Surround her with forgiving family
and nurses not too numb to cry. Please banish

trite consolations; take her in one swift
and gentle motion as your final gift.

Posted with permission of the poet.

This post was suggested by my friend Burl Horniachek.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of five poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Cascade) ― a book of poems written from the point-of-view of angels. His books are available through Wipf & Stock.