Sonnet 15

Standard

 

De voz yeux tout-divins, dont un Dieu se paistroit,
(Si un Dieu se paissoit de quelque chose en terre)
Je me paissois hier, et Amour qui m’enferre,
Ce-pendant sur mon cœur ses fleches racoustroit.

Mon œil dedans le vostre esbahy rencontroit
Cent beautez, qui me font une si douce guerre,
Et la mesme vertu, qui toute se reserre
En vous, d’aller au Ciel le chemin me monstroit.

Je n’avois ny esprit ny penser ny oreille,
Qui ne fussent ravis de crainte et de merveille,
Tant d’aise transportez mes sens estoient contens.

J’estois Dieu, si mon œil vous eust veu davantage :
Mais le soir qui survint, cacha vostre visage,
Jaloux que les mortels le veissent si long temps.

 

 
 
                                                                                Yesterday I was feeding on your divine eyes,
                                                                                On which a god might feed – if a god fed on
                                                                                Something earthly – and Love which has hooked me
                                                                                Meanwhile [ar]ranged his arrows on my heart.
 
                                                                                My astounded eye within yours encountered
                                                                                A hundred beauties, which make [in] me so sweet a war,
                                                                                And virtue itself, which shuts itself up entirely
                                                                                In you, shows me the way to Heaven.
 
                                                                                My spirit, thoughts and hearing were
                                                                                Entirely ravished away by fear and wonder,
                                                                                So happy, transported by joy, were my senses.
 
                                                                                I’d have been a god if my eye could have watched you more;
                                                                                But as evening came on it hid your face,
                                                                                Jealous that mortals should see it for so long.

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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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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