Sonnet 26

Les Villes et les Bourgs me sont si odieux,
Que je meurs si je voy quelque tracette humaine :
Seulet dedans les bois pensif je me promeine,
Et rien ne m’est plaisant que les sauvages lieux.
Il n’y a dans ces bois sangliers si furieux,
Ny roc si endurci, ny ruisseau, ny fontaine,
Ny arbre tant soit sourd qui ne sçache ma peine,
Et qui ne soit marri de mon mal ennuyeux.
Un penser qui renaist d’un autre, m’accompaigne
Avec un pleur amer qui tout le sein me baigne,
Travaillé de souspirs qui compaignons me sont :
Si bien que si quelcun me trouvoit au bocage,
Voyant mon poil rebours et l’horreur de mon front,
Ne me diroit pas homme, ains un monstre sauvage.
                                                                                            Towns and cities are to me so hateful
                                                                                            That I die if I see any trace of people;
                                                                                            Alone in the woods I pensively wander
                                                                                            And nothing pleases me but wild places.
                                                                                            There are no boars in these woods so wild,
                                                                                            No rock so hard, no river nor spring
                                                                                            Nor tree which could be so deaf as not to know of my trouble,
                                                                                            And which would not be fed up with my tedious ills.
                                                                                            One thought reborn from another accompanies me
                                                                                            With bitter tears which bathe my whole breast,
                                                                                            Tormented by sighs which are my companions;
                                                                                            So much so, that if anyone found me in the woods,
                                                                                            Seeing my hair standing on end and the horror in my face,
                                                                                            They would say I was not a man, but a wild beast.
Blanchemain offers only a minor variant, in the middle of the sestet where the end of line 11 & the beginning of line 12 are different:
… Travaillé de souspirs qui si tristes me font,
Que si quelque passant me trouvoit au bocage …
                                                                                             … Tormented by sighs which make me so sad,
                                                                                             That if some passer-by found me in the woods, …

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')

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s