Is it because, as a generalization but true, that most history has been accessed and written about by men? This being the case the world has been deprived of stories and deeds of great importance, works of art, difficult moments surmounted by decisive people and words, beautifully conceived and written, by women! Let's balance the ledger and share with you over several articles, a celebration of women in history.
Let's begin by travelling back to the second half of the thirteenth century when the European world was just beginning to enjoy the lyrical qualities of the sonnet.
This technique of writing was devised earlier in the century by the Sicilian Jacopo da Lentini and had quickly developed into the perfect poetic form, soon to be imitated throughout Europe.
From Sicily we move north to Florence where La Compiuta Donzella was born and lived.
We know so little about her and it is not certain that Compiuta Donzella was her real name; it may have been a pseudonym meaning the Accomplished Maid.
But this lady could write; described by those that knew her work as a delicate but intense poet.
Some even referred to her as the Divine Sibyl! Her best known work to have survived the passage of centuries is titled "A la stagion che il mondo foglia e fiora" (In the Season when the World Leafs and Flowers) and reveals a writer of great refinement and precision whose lines flow with a wonderful melody and harmony.
Her work reflects the language of lyric poetry that had been achieved in 13th century Tuscany, and the cry of a woman who was being forced into a loveless marriage by her domineering father.
Tragically, such tears of pain and fear still fall from the eyes of some women in this imperfect world today! In the season when the world leafs and flowers, Joy grows in all gentle lovers, They go together to the gardens, while Little birds make sweet song, All free-hearted people fall in love, And every man steps forth to serve, And every maiden lives in joy.
As for me, miseries and tears abound.
For my father has put me in a quandary, And keeps me often in terrible pain: He wants to give me - forcing me - a husband.
And I have neither wish nor will for this, And in great torment I live every hour: So that neither flower nor leaf rejoices me.
A poem that begins with the promise of joy and love turns into a personal lament of sadness.
Her pain and sorrow inspired the writing of this bewitching piece of poetry and her words ring as true today as they did some seven hundred years ago.
Let's begin by travelling back to the second half of the thirteenth century when the European world was just beginning to enjoy the lyrical qualities of the sonnet.
This technique of writing was devised earlier in the century by the Sicilian Jacopo da Lentini and had quickly developed into the perfect poetic form, soon to be imitated throughout Europe.
From Sicily we move north to Florence where La Compiuta Donzella was born and lived.
We know so little about her and it is not certain that Compiuta Donzella was her real name; it may have been a pseudonym meaning the Accomplished Maid.
But this lady could write; described by those that knew her work as a delicate but intense poet.
Some even referred to her as the Divine Sibyl! Her best known work to have survived the passage of centuries is titled "A la stagion che il mondo foglia e fiora" (In the Season when the World Leafs and Flowers) and reveals a writer of great refinement and precision whose lines flow with a wonderful melody and harmony.
Her work reflects the language of lyric poetry that had been achieved in 13th century Tuscany, and the cry of a woman who was being forced into a loveless marriage by her domineering father.
Tragically, such tears of pain and fear still fall from the eyes of some women in this imperfect world today! In the season when the world leafs and flowers, Joy grows in all gentle lovers, They go together to the gardens, while Little birds make sweet song, All free-hearted people fall in love, And every man steps forth to serve, And every maiden lives in joy.
As for me, miseries and tears abound.
For my father has put me in a quandary, And keeps me often in terrible pain: He wants to give me - forcing me - a husband.
And I have neither wish nor will for this, And in great torment I live every hour: So that neither flower nor leaf rejoices me.
A poem that begins with the promise of joy and love turns into a personal lament of sadness.
Her pain and sorrow inspired the writing of this bewitching piece of poetry and her words ring as true today as they did some seven hundred years ago.