Sonnets diverses 91

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This one is for my daughter 🙂  It was originally in Amours diverses but Blanchemain included it in Sonnets diverses.

 

Je vous donne des œufs. L’œuf en sa forme ronde
Semble au Ciel qui peut tout en ses bras enfermer,
Le feu, l’air et la terre et l’humeur de la mer,
Et sans estre compris comprend tout le monde.
 
La taye semble à l’air, et la glaire feconde
Semble á la mer qui fait toutes choses germer ;
L’aubin ressemble au feu qui peut tout animer,
La coque en pesanteur comme la terre abonde.
 
Et le ciel et les œufs de blancheur sont couvers.
Je vous donne (en donnant un œuf) tout l’univers ;
Divin est le present, s’il vous est agreable ;
 
Mais bien qu’il soit parfait, il ne peut égaler
Vostre perfection qui n’a point de semblable
Dont les Dieux seulement sont dignes de parler.
 
 
 
                                                                            I give you eggs. The egg, in its round shape,
                                                                            Resembles the sky which can enclose all things in its arms,
                                                                            Fire, air, earth and the waters of the sea,
                                                                            And without being comprehended comprehends everything.
 
                                                                            The membrane is like the air, and the fertile white
                                                                            Like the sea which makes all things sprout;
                                                                            The yellow is like fire which brings everything to life,
                                                                            The shell in its weightiness like the rich earth.
 
                                                                            Also, the sky and eggs are both covered in white.
                                                                            I give you – in giving an egg – the whole of creation;
                                                                            The gift is a god’s, if it pleases you;
 
                                                                            But although it may be perfect, it cannot equal
                                                                            Your perfection which has no like,
                                                                            Of which the gods alone are worthy to speak.
 
 
What a great, lapidary opening: I give you eggs. (Among the many other things I like about this poem is line 9 – Ronsard, with a smile, says  ‘though that octet was beautifully structured and balanced, I just want to make one other remark which didn’t really fit…!’)  Just a marvellous poem!
 
 
 
 
 
 
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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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