Pièces retranchées – Sonnet 4

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Quand en songeant ma folastre j’acolle,
Laissant mes flancs sus les siens s’alonger,
Et que, d’un branle habilement leger
En sa moitié ma moitié je recole :
 
Amour adonc si follement m’affole,
Qu’un tel abus je ne voudroy changer,
Non au butin d’un rivage estranger,
Non au sablon qui jaunit en Pactole.
 
Mon Dieu, quel heur, et quel consentement,
M’a fait sentir ce faux recolement,
Changeant ma vie en cent metamorphoses !
 
Combien de fois, doucement agité,
Suis-je ore mort, ore resuscité,
Entre cent lis, et cent vermeilles roses ?
 
 
 
                                                                       Oh, how while dreaming I stick to my folly,
                                                                       Allowing my limbs to stretch alongside hers,
                                                                       And how, with an expert and gentle impulse
                                                                       To her half I re-join my half !
 
                                                                       Love has thus so bewildered and fooled me
                                                                       That I would not change such a deception,
                                                                       Not for the booty of some foreign shore,
                                                                       Not for all the sand which yellows the river Pactolus.
 
                                                                       My goodness, what hour and what assent
                                                                       Made me feel this false attachment,
                                                                       Changing my life a hundred different ways !
 
                                                                       How many times, sweetly troubled,
                                                                       Am I now dead, now revived,
                                                                       Between a hundred lilies and a hundred red roses !
 
 
 
 
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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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