O Bicci, pretty son of who knows whom

OB ICCI , pretty son of who knows whom
Unless thy mother Lady Tessa tell, —
Thy gullet is already crammed too well,
Yet others' food thou needs must now consume.
Lo! he that wears a purse makes ample room
When thou goest by in any public place,
Saying, " This fellow with the branded face
Is thief apparent from his mother's womb."
And I know one who's fain to keep his bed
Lest thou shouldst filch it, at whose birth he stood
Like Joseph when the world its Christmas saw.
Of Bicci and his brothers it is said
That with the heat of misbegotten blood
Among their wives they are nice brothers-in-law.
Author of original: 
Dante Alighieri
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.