Tuesday, April 19

An Italian Love Sonnet

It was on that day when the sun's ray
was darkened in pity for its Maker,
that I was captured, and did not defend myself,
because your lovely eyes had bound me, Lady.

It did not seem to me to be a time to guard myself
against Love's blows: so I went on
confident, unsuspecting; from that, my troubles
started, amongst the public sorrows.

Love discovered me all weaponless,
and opened the way to the heart through the eyes,
which are made the passageways and doors of tears:

so that it seems to me it does him little honour
to wound me with his arrow, in that state,
he not showing his bow at all to you who are armed.
Era il giorno ch'al sol si scoloraro
per la pietà del suo factore i rai,
quando i' fui preso, et non me ne guardai,
ché i be' vostr'occhi, donna, mi legaro.

Tempo non mi parea da far riparo
contra colpi d'Amor: però m'andai
secur, senza sospetto; onde i miei guai
nel commune dolor s'incominciaro.

Trovommi Amor del tutto disarmato
et aperta la via per gli occhi al core,
che di lagrime son fatti uscio et varco:

però al mio parer non li fu honore
ferir me de saetta in quello stato,
a voi armata non mostrar pur l'arco.
Francesco Petrarch possibly the most famous Italian poet known for his collection of love sonnets, The Canzoniere, dedicated to the love of his life Laura is the inspiration behind this dimly lit and utterly raw mini photo shoot.



  1. Maybe you should pick up on photography cause you're amaaaazing at it.

  2. You two are wayyy too gorgeous. Those are amazing photos

  3. I am not a love poet but if I were to wake up tomorrow morning and decided that I really wanted to write about love, it would be of the girl in this picture. I’d write about how I see her face in every cloud and her smile in every reflection. I would write a million poems hoping that somehow, maybe someway shed jump out of the page and be closer to me. If I were a love poet, I’d write about how this girl has the audacity to be beautiful on days where nothing else is. I would write about how every time I would hope to see her name on my phone, my heart would play Double Dutch inside of my chest. I would massage her back until her skin sang songs her lips didn’t even know the words to. If I were a love poet I would write of how her eyes pierced my heart like a hunters harpoon in a sea full of fish. If I were to meet this girl I would be able to do nothing with my life except love her and try to describe her beauty with the words from my thoughts. I would fail countless times over and yet still be content..

  4. To whom ever this is...message me please.


I hope you enjoy Italy through my eyes. xoxo Emily Jenny