#Sonnet XLI

[aboutbirds]

XLI

I thank all who have loved me in their hearts, With thanks and love from mine. Deep thanks to all Who paused a little near the prison-wall To hear my music in its louder parts Ere they went onward, each one to the mart's Or temple's occupation, beyond call. But thou, who, in my voice's sink and fall When the sob took it, thy divinest Art's Own instrument didst drop down at thy foot To hearken what I said between my tears... Instruct me how to thank thee! Oh, to shoot My soul's full meaning into future years, That they should lend it utterance, and salute Love that endures, from Life that disappears!

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, from Sonnets from the Portuguese

[transsexualprophet]

Roelof ten Napel, uit de bundel In het vlees

SONNET XLI

niet het ontmantelen van machines,

maar ze niet gebruiken hoe ze zijn bedoeld —

wat zich openbaart 

houdt op, maar wat min of meer verborgen blijft

krijgt een halve kans om voort te leven, zij het 

als iets dat zich

amper ruchtbaar maken kan, waarvan je amper weet

hoe het heet —

wie had gedacht dat onder wat men gruwel noemt

soms gewoon een lijf verborgen zit

dat je kan laten lachen, of dat je vraagt

nog even te blijven liggen, terwijl je al te laat bent,

waarna je langer blijft, en alles met je zwijgt

over hoe dat heten moet

[eresia-catara]

I don't know how I never noticed this before but I was reading ok??

the song of birds and reasoning about love

And I checked the footnotes

«Reasoning about love» recurs in Dante, Guido I wish that you and Lapo and I, 12 [...]. For a secret resonance inside Guido['s poems], cfr. XLI, 7.

And I checked the reference because,, that's a weird way to put it. Did I miss anything? Secret??

And?????

of me you spoke so deep from the heart

GUYS.

I flipped pages and there it was.

whY does he connect them. And whY is this resonance so secret mr. de robertis? Like. Out of all the things he could've connected to "reasoning about love" he thought this. The Line. The line where we have the word coralemente which. y'know. as we have said recurs only one other time, here

[a loving spiritual gaze]/ [...]/ [...] now more than ever assails me/ and drives me into thinking deep from the heart/ of my lady

and it is referred to the lady and it is a word of passion there is no mistake about that

["now more than ever"] rather expresses a more intense feeling of love (cfr. 4 coralemente) [...] it essentially has the function of a superlative. Even the «immediately assails me» in Dante's sonnet Oftentimes, 5, alludes to an assault of eros [...].

The term 'coralemente', 'deep from the heart', was common in poetry and it was always referred to the love felt towards the lady, to an assault of eros, but Guido, as we know, uses it when talking about Dante talking about him.

If this was already...off, now we have this "song of birds and reasoning about love" which is the same concept used in the shepherdess poem where hearing the song of birds means that the lady's heart desires a lover, which De Robertis (you know. the greatest critic of Guido's poems.) connects to coralemente.

This means that Guido is saying that Dante would talk about him deep from the heart, or, reasoning about love. And it's nothing new in a way because they essentially mean the same thing: Dante spoke about him with burning passion. The point is this could all easily be interpreted platonically if it weren't for the fact that these are all technical terms. Guido is not using common expressions but he is using the words of Love and it's surely not a lighthearted whimsical choice considering he's also the one who's obsessed with technicisms. Also only a few lines later, to say he cannot show his appreciation for Dante's words he uses the expression 'far mostramento' which again is a technical term that refers to the display of love's effects. He is talking. about. Love!!

LASTLY. in this perspective. Guido i' vorrei? Ragionar d'amore??

Hang on- cavalghieri nation rise?????

[gwydionmisha]

Sonnet XLI - William Shakespeare

Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits, When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty, and thy years full well befits, For still temptation follows where thou art. Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won, Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed; And when a woman woos, what woman's son Will sourly leave her till he have prevailed? Ay me! but yet thou mightst my seat forbear, And chide thy beauty and thy straying youth, Who lead thee in their riot even there Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth:     Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee,     Thine by thy beauty being false to me.

[pileofwrite]

I, Being Born a Woman Self Possessed (Sonnet DCLXVI)

I, being born a woman self possessed With all the seeds and potions of my kind, Will purged by my soliloquy do bind Your person bare, and feel a certain jest To bully your body's fate unto my wrest: So surely is your doom of life resigned, Still the pulse and shroud the mind, And leave you once again undone, declined. Think on this fair punishment for treason To send clout blood against your flagging brain, You shall be remembered with just disseisin My scorn without pity, —let me make it plain: I find your years too lengthy a season And, aim to shear your reign

Inspired by I, Being born a Woman and Distressed by Edna St. Vincent Millay - 1892-1950

[red-ibis-red]

And our problems will crumble apart,

the soul blow through like a wind,

and here where we live

will all be clean again,

with fresh bread on the table.

—Pablo Neruda, “XlI”, Love Sonnets

[stupendoustrashmagazine]

It's 3:43am, Archimedes: Right On (Time)

[Sonnet] XLI

banging around in a cigarette she isn’t “in love”

my dream a drink with

Ira Hayes we discuss the code of the west

my hands make love to my body when my arms are around you

you never tell me your name

and I am forced to write “belly” when I mean “love”

Au revoir, scene! I waken, read, write long letters &

wander restlessly when leaves are blowing

my dream a crumpled horn

in advance of the broken arm

she murmurs of signs to her fingers

weeps in the morning to waken so shackled with love

Not me. I like to beat people up.

My dream a white tree

[beautyswhereyoufindit]

Me, knowing full well what happens in Shakespeare's Sonnets, reading Sonnet XLI: 😮 He cheated! Fucking cheated!

[obliobla]

Sonnet XLI

It’s an unfortunate January when indifferent noon sets its equation in the sky, gold hard as the wine in a brimming cup fills the earth up to its blue limits.

It’s an unfortunate time, seeming like tiny grapes that bunched green and bitter, confused, hidden tears of those days, till the elements reveal their clusters.

Yes, seeds, sorrows, everything that throbs beneath the earth, in the crackling light of January, will ripen, will blaze like the produce burns.

Grief will be divided: the soul will gasp a gust of wind, and home will remain clean with fresh bread on the table.

-Pablo Neruda-

[claire-lovelace]

My First Sonnet: A response to Sonnet XLI

Edna St. Vincent Millay

I, being born a woman and distressed

By all the needs and notions of my kind,

Understand why we can not be intertwined

Our burden of the world’s benightedness

To bear amongst our taboo breath

Not so subtly their rules so defined

To punish and rule those of different mind

And leave us loveless until death

But why should we keep from one another

Our passion deserves articulation

Love like this they can not smother

For you I would face damnation

Your touch to me, perenne

We will need no conversation when we meet again

[gdanea]

much more Literature Out Loud at daneallred.com

Sonnet XLI

by William Shakespeare

Those petty wrongs that liberty commits,

When I am sometime absent from thy heart,

Thy beauty and thy years full well befits,

For still temptation follows where thou art.

Gentle thou art and therefore to be won,

Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed;

And when a woman woos, what woman's son

Will sourly leave her till she have prevailed?

Ay me! But yet thou mightest my seat forbear,

And chide try beauty and thy straying youth,

Who lead thee in their riot even there

Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth,

Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee,

Thine, by thy beauty being false to me.

Click on the player below to hear the audio version of this sonnet.

 LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature

Audio narrations with synchronized visual text

[itsfreeaudiobook]

A book of 41 poems by E. E. Cummings classified as Songs I-XII [poems 1-12], Chansons Innocentes I-II [poems 13-14], Portraits I-IX [poems 15-23], La Guerre I-II [poems 24-25], Sonnets I-XVI [poems 26-41] - Summary by Scotty Smith via Libricox

[barzidovigeei]

Sonnet XL, XLI , XLII Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all; What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call; All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more. Then, if for my love, thou my love receivest, I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest; But yet be blam'd, if thou thy self deceivest By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief, Although thou steal thee all my poverty: And yet, love knows it is a greater grief To bear love's wrong, than hate's known injury.    Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,    Kill me with spites yet we must not be foes. Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits, When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty, and thy years full well befits, For still temptation follows where thou art. Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won, Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed; And when a woman woos, what woman's son Will sourly leave her till he have prevailed? Ay me! but yet thou mightst my seat forbear, And chide thy beauty and thy straying youth, Who lead thee in their riot even there Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth:      Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee,      Thine by thy beauty being false to me. That thou hast her it is not all my grief, And yet it may be said I loved her dearly; That she hath thee is of my wailing chief, A loss in love that touches me more nearly.  Loving offenders thus I will excuse ye: Thou dost love her, because thou know'st I love her; And for my sake even so doth she abuse me, Suffering my friend for my sake to approve her. If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain, And losing her, my friend hath found that loss; Both find each other, and I lose both twain, And both for my sake lay on me this cross:    But here's the joy; my friend and I are one;    Sweet flattery! then she loves but me alone.

[artnachronisme]

« Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits, When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty, and thy years full well befits, For still temptation follows where thou art. Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won, Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed ; And when a woman woos, what woman's son Will sourly leave her till he have prevailed ? Ay me ! but yet thou mightst my seat forbear, And chide thy beauty and thy straying youth, Who lead thee in their riot even there Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth : Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee,Thine by thy beauty being false to me. » Sonnet XLI by William Shakespeare. 

@arianeeven

[samrat747]

Sonnet XLI: Why Do I Speak of Joy by Michael Drayton Love's Lunacy Why do I speak of joy, or write of love, When my heart is the very den of horror, And in my soul the pains of Hell I prove, With all his torments and infernal terror? What should I say? What yet remains to do? My brain is dry with weeping all too long, My sighs be spent in uttering my woe, And I want words wherewith to tell my wrong; But, still distracted in Love's lunacy, And, bedlam-like, thus raging in my grief, Now rail upon her hair, then on her eye, Now call her Goddess, then I call her thief, Now I deny her, then I do confess her, Now do I curse her, then again I bless her. #poem #poetry #picturestory https://www.instagram.com/p/BnqOaNGFeq6/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=no2k77l08nsk

[red-ibis-red]

(From two different translators: ) 1. To each in his time the woes of the world; yet the spirit will beat with the fists of the wind, and the whole habitation of man will be cleansed, with bread newly baked for the table. 2. And our problems will crumble apart, the soul blow through like a wind, and here where we live will all be clean again, with fresh bread on the table.

Pablo Neruda, Love Sonnet XLI