Sonnet 28

Vous mesprisez nature :  estes-vous si cruelle
De ne vouloir aimer ?  voyez les Passereaux
Qui demenent l’amour, voyez les Colombeaux,
Regardez le Ramier, voyez la Tourterelle :
Voyez deçà delà d’une fretillante aile
Voleter par les bois les amoureux oiseaux,
Voyez la jeune vigne embrasser les ormeaux,
Et toute chose rire en la saison nouvelle.
Ici la bergerette en tournant son fuseau
Desgoise ses amours, et là le pastoureau
Respond à sa chanson, ici toute chose aime :
Tout parle de l’amour, tour s’en veut enflamer :
Seulement vostre cœur froid d’une glace extreme
Demeure opiniastre et ne veut point aimer.
                                                                                            You despise nature. Are you so cruel
                                                                                            As not to wish to love?  See the sparrows
                                                                                            Which are agitated by love, see the doves,
                                                                                            See the pigeon, see the turtle-dove:
                                                                                            See here and there on fluttering wing
                                                                                            The amorous birds flitting through the woods,
                                                                                            See the young vine embrace the elms,
                                                                                            And everything laughing in this new season.
                                                                                            Here the shepherdess turning her spindle
                                                                                            Rambles of her love, and there the shepherd
                                                                                            Replies to her song, here everything is in love:
                                                                                            Everything speaks of love, everything wishes to burn with it;
                                                                                            Your heart alone, cold with an extreme iciness,
                                                                                            Remains stubborn and does not wish to love at all.
You might think this ittle gem was beyond tinkering; and for once Ronsard (nearly) agrees with you. He was unsatisfied with the opening though, and Blanchemain’s version begins with a different half-line:  “Hé ! que voulez-vous dire ?  Estes-vous si cruelle…” (‘Eh? What are you trying to say? …’). Otherwise, no changes!

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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