Here I pokoyus, Philip, painter forever immortal,
Marvelous beauty of my hands - on everyone's lips.
I was able to breathe soul skillful fingers - in paint,
Devout souls knew how - the voice of God confused.
Even nature itself, my zaglyadevshis creatures of,
Compelled to call me master his equal.
In this marble tomb me give rest Lawrence
Medici, before I will return to low-lying dust.
17 Martha 1914
__________
*Epitaph composed Politsianom and carved on the tombstone of the artist in Spoleto Cathedral at the behest of Lorenzo the Magnificent.
Here I am a CONDIТUS FILE FАМА PHILIP
IGNOTA to no МЕЕ GRATIА MIRA VIGOR
ARTIFICIS POTUI DIGIТIS animated COLORES
SPERATAQUE ANIМOS fallere VOCALLY LONG
NATURE express figures about my STUPUIТ
THEIR confessed to me that equal ARТIBUS
MARМOREO INTER medices LAURENТIUS Here МЕ
Before CONDIDIТ low POWDER COVERED ERAM
