Amours retranch. 10

Vous ne le voulez pas? et bien, j’en suis content,
Contre vostre rigueur Dieu me doint patience,
Devant qu’il soit vingt ans j’en auray la vengeance,
Voyant ternir vos yeux qui me travaillent tant.
On ne voit amoureux au monde si constant
Qui ne perdist le cœur, perdant sa recompence :
Quant à moy, si ne fust la longue experience
Que j’ay de ma douleur, je mourrois à l’instant.
Toutesfois quand je pense un peu en mon courage
Que je ne suis tout seul des femmes abusé,
Et que de plus accorts en ont reçeu dommage ;
Je pardonne à moy-mesme, et m’ay pour excusé :
Puis vous qui me trompez, en estes coustumiere
Et qui pis est sur toute en beauté la premiere.
                                                                            You don’t want to? Well, I’m content.
                                                                            May God give me patience in the face of your harshness;
                                                                            Before twenty years are up I shall have my revenge
                                                                            Seeing your eyes, which now torment me so, become dull. 
                                                                            You won’t see so constant a lover in the world
                                                                            Who doesn’t lose heart, in losing his reward:
                                                                            As for me, if it weren’t for the long experience
                                                                            Which I have of suffering, I would die on the spot. 
                                                                            However, when I think a little for my encouragement
                                                                            That I’m not the only one abused by women
                                                                            And that more attractive men have been hurt by them, 
                                                                            I pardon myself, I hold myself excused;
                                                                            For you who disappoint me are accustomed to it
                                                                            And, what’s worse, above all others the first in beauty.
Another lovely poem, banished to the ‘forgotten works’ …

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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