Michelangelo: To Giovanni da Pistoia When the Author Was Painting the Vault of the Sistine Chapel1509
I've already grown a goiter from this torture,
hunched up here like a cat in Lombardy(or anywhere else where the stagnant water's poison).My stomach's squashed under my chin, my beard'spointing at heaven, my brain's crushed in a casket,my breast twists like a harpy's. My brush,above me all the time, dribbles paintso my face makes a fine floor for droppings!My haunches are grinding into my guts,my poor ass strains to work as a counterweight,every gesture I make is blind and aimless.My skin hangs loose below me, my spine'sall knotted from folding over itself.I'm bent taut as a Syrian bow.Because I'm stuck like this, my thoughtsare crazy, perfidious tripe:anyone shoots badly through a crooked blowpipe.My painting is dead.Defend it for me, Giovanni, protect my honor.I am not in the right place—I am not a painter.(translated by Gail Mazur)
Like I said before I haven't read much poetry. However this is one of the first poems that the Professor showed and I really like it. The main reason is that its Michael freaking Angelo! And in this poem he sounds so amazingly real. I have never been to the Sistine Chapel to see his work in real life but of course I've seen and heard about it.
This Poem reminds me that even talented genius' like Michael Angelo struggled and became frustrated with there Art. It makes me laugh a little on the inside that while Michael Angelo was painting one of the most famous art pieces in history he had doubt.
