Sembran fere d'avorio in bosco d'oro, by Anton Maria Narducci

Today we read Sembran fere d’avorio in bosco d’oro, by Anton Maria Narducci. You gotta love Baroque poetry.
The author of this sonnet must have gotten tired of the never-ending repetition of the “angelic woman with golden hair” trope, and decided to give things a different turn. A more realistic turn. You see, in the 1600s hygiene was not what it is today, so it must not have been a rare occurrence to see people scratching their heads with suspicious frequency and intensity. The beloved of the poet — real or imagined, it doesn’t really matter — still has a fabulous golden mane, just like Petrarca’s did. The difference, and it is a remarkably substantial one, lies in its cleanliness, or lack thereof.
Indeed, her hair is infested with lice. And the poet celebrates these guests, comparing them to gems that adorn it, or even to little Cupids, darting to and fro, and preparing a golden net that the lady uses to capture men and make them love her. Such is the Baroque equilibrium between poetic and disgusting, commonplace and exalted, traditional and rebellious. The original: Sembran fère d’avorio in bosco d’oro\ le fère erranti onde sí ricca siete;
anzi, gemme son pur che voi scotete
da l’aureo del bel crin natio tesoro;
o pure, intenti a nobile lavoro,
cosí cangiati gli Amoretti avete,
perché tessano al cor la bella rete
con l’auree fila ond’io beato moro.
O fra bei rami d’or volanti Amori,
gemme nate d’un crin fra l’onde aurate,
fère pasciute di nettarei umori;
deh, s’avete desio d’eterni onori,
esser preda talor non isdegnate
di quella preda onde son preda i cori! \ The music in this episode is Paganini’s Caprice No. 24, recorded by Elias Goldstein (Viola) and Christina Lalog (Piano) (in the public domain).