Helen – sonnet 2:43

Genèvres herissez, et vous houx espineux
L’un hoste des deserts, et l’autre d’un bocage ;
Lierre, le tapis d’un bel antre sauvage,
Sources qui bouillonnez d’un surgeon sablonneux ;
Pigeons qui vous baisez d’un baiser savoureux
Tourtres qui lamentez d’un eternel veufvage.
Rossignols ramagers qui d’un plaisant langage
Nuict et jour rechantez vos versets amoureux ;
Vous à la gorge rouge estrangere Arondelle,
Si vous voyez aller ma Nymphe en ce Printemps
Pour cueillir des bouquets par ceste herbe nouvelle,
Dites-luy, pour-neant que sa grace j’attens,
Et que pour ne souffrir le mal que j’ay pour elle,
J’ay mieux aimé mourir que languir si long temps.
                                                                      Bristling junipers and you prickly holly
                                                                      One the guest of deserts, the other of the copse;
                                                                      Ivy, the carpet of a fine wild cave
                                                                      And springs which bubble from sandy roots;
                                                                      You wood-pigeons who relish your kisses,
                                                                      You doves who lament in eternal widowhood,
                                                                      Warbling nightingales who in your charming language
                                                                      Sing night and day your poems of love,
                                                                      You red-throated swallows from foreign lands:
                                                                      If any of you see my nymph go out this spring
                                                                      To cut flowers among this new growth,
                                                                      Tell her that I a mere nothing am awaiting her notice
                                                                      And that, rather than suffer the pain that I have for her,
                                                                      I would rather die than pine away for so long.
Another beautiful and famous sonnet, with a very stable text !

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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