Sonnet 10

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Amour me paist d’une telle Ambrosie,
Que je ne suis en ce monde envieux
De la liqueur, dont le Pere des Dieux
Chez l’Ocean sa bouche rassasie.
 
Celle qui tient ma liberté saisie,
Voire mon coeur ès prisons de ses yeux,
Soule ma faim d’un fruit si precieux,
Que d’autre bien ne vit ma fantaisie.
 
De l’avaller je ne me puis lasser,
Tant le plaisir d’un variant penser
Mon appetit nuict et jour fait renaistre.
 
Et si le fiel n’amoderoit un peu
Le doux du miel dont mon coeur est repeu,
Entre les Dieux, Dieu je ne voudrois estre.
 
 
 
                                                                       Love feeds me with such ambrosia
                                                                       That I am not envious, though in this world,
                                                                       Of the liquor with which the Father of the gods
                                                                       In the Ocean satisfies his mouth.
 
                                                                       She who holds my liberty captive
                                                                       And my heart besides in the prisons of her eyes
                                                                       Overcomes my hunger with a fruit so precious
                                                                       That my imagination lives on no other good.
 
                                                                       I cannot weary of swallowing it
                                                                       So much does the pleasure of my wandering thought
                                                                       Bring my appetite back to life, night and day.
 
                                                                       And if bile didn’t slightly embitter
                                                                       The sweet honey on which my heart is fed,
                                                                       I would not even want to be a god among the gods.
 
 
 [Apparently Hesiod among the ancients, and some early Renaissance French poets, refer to the gods often going to eat & drink with Ocean, king of the sea.]
 
Ronsard made a number of small changes to this poem over its lifetime, but none of them significantly changes the version above.
 
 
 
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About fattoxxon

Who am I? Lover of all sorts of music - classical, medieval, world (anything from Africa), world-classical (Uzbek & Iraqi magam for instance), and virtually anything that won't be on the music charts... Lover of Ronsard's poetry (obviously) and of sonnets in general. Reader of English, French, Latin & other literature. And who is Fattoxxon? An allusion to an Uzbek singer - pronounce it Patahan, with a very plosive 'P' and a throaty 'h', as in 'khan')

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