• Edmund Spenser :One Day I Wrote Her Name Upon the Strand
• Christopher Marlowe: The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
• The good morrow by John Donne (1572-1631)
• John Donne: Song
• John Donne: The Flea
• Elizabeth Barrett Browning: Sonnets from the Portuguese, I
• Dante Gabriel Rossetti: Silent noon
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : Love Is Not All
• Dorothy Parker : One perfect rose
• W.H. Auden : If I could tell you
• Wendy Cope : Bloody men

Edmund Spenser (1552–1599)

From Amoretti sonnet 75

One Day I Wrote Her Name Upon the Strand

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,                   strand
But came the waves and washèd it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide and made my pains his prey.              prooi

Vain man (said she) that dost in vain assay                    ijdele, tevergeefs probeert
A mortal thing so to immortalise;                                   sterfelijk, vereeuwigen
For I myself shall like to this decay,                               lijken op, verval
And eek my name be wipèd out likewise.                       ook, ook zo uitgewist

Not so (quod I); let baser things devise                         zei ik, lagere, van plan zijn
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame;
My verse your virtues rare shall eternise,                      bijzondere, vereeuwigen
And in the heavens write your glorious name:

Where, when as Death shall all the world subdue,          onderwerpen
Our love shall live, and later life renew.

Christopher Marlowe (1564- 1593)

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love                  schaapsherder

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,                   klein bos
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.                       steil

And we will sit upon the rocks,                            rotsen
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,               kuddes
By shallow rivers to whose falls                          ondiepe, watervallen
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,                         geurige boeketjes
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle                              lange jurk
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;                mirte (boom)

A gown made of the finest wool                          jas
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;                         gespen

A belt of straw and ivy buds,                            riem,stro,klimop
With coral clasps and amber studs:                   gesp, barnstenen beslag
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.

The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing       herdersjongens
For thy delight each May morning:                    plezier
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.

I wonder by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we loved ? were we not wean'd till then? But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly? Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den? 'Twas so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be; If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee. And now good-morrow to our waking souls, Which watch not one another out of fear For love, all love of other sights controls, And makes one little room an everywhere. Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone; Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown; Let us possess one world ; each hath one, and is one. My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, And true plain hearts do in the faces rest; Where can we find two better hemispheres Without sharp north, without declining west? Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally; If our two loves be one, or thou and I Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die.

John Donne (1572 - 1631)

Song

Sweetest love, I do not go,
For weariness of thee,                     omdat ik je zat ben
Nor in hope the world can show
A fitter love for me ;                       geschiktere

But since that I
must die at last, 'tis best,
to use myself in jest                        schertsend
Thus by feigned deaths to die.          om zo, geveinsde

Yesternight the sun went hence,      ging weg
And yet is here to-day ;
He hath no desire nor sense,
Nor half so short a way ;

Then fear not me,
But believe that I shall make
Speedier journeys, since I take      snellere reizen
More wings and spurs than he.       aansporingen

O how feeble is man's power,         zwak
That if good fortune fall,                geluk omslaat
Cannot add another hour,
Nor a lost hour recall!                    herroepen

But come bad chance,                  als het noodlt toeslaat
And we join to it our strength,       toevoegen
And we teach it art and length,
It self o'er us to advance.             stijgt het boven ons uit

When thou sigh'st, thou sigh'st not wind,    zucht
But sigh'st my soul away ;
When thou weep'st, unkindly kind,             huilt
My life's blood doth decay.                        raakt in verval

It cannot be
That thou lov’st me as thou say'st,
If in thine my life thou waste,                  verspilt
That are the best of me.

Let not thy divining heart                       voorspellende
Forethink me any ill ;
Destiny may take thy part,                  het Lot
And may thy fears fulfil.                      bewaarheid worden

But think that we
Are but turn'd aside to sleep.
They who one another keep
Alive, ne'er parted be.                     kunnen nooit worden gescheiden

John Donne (1572 – 1631)

The Flea

Mark but this flea, and mark in this,                kijk eens naar
How little that which thou deniest me is ;         mij ontzegt
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,            zoog mijn bloed op
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.       vermengd
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead ;      maagdelijkheid
Yet this enjoys before it woo,                          het hof maakt
And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two ; verzadigd, wordt groter
And this, alas ! is more than we would do.

O stay, three lives in one flea spare,                  leven voort
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is.
Though parents grudge, and you, we're met,        misgunnen het ons
And cloister'd in these living walls of Jet.              ingesloten, van git (zwarte steen)
Though use make you apt to kill me,                   geneigd
Let not to that self-murder added be,                  worden toegevoegd
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.              heiligschennis

Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?                paars gemaakt
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it suck'd from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou                zegeviert
Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now.
'Tis true ; then learn how false fears be ;
Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to me,     je aan mij overgeeft
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.  zal het kosten

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806 – 1861)

Sonnets from the Portuguese (1850)

I

I thought once how Theocritus* had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,     verlangde
Who each one in a gracious hand appears                  genadig, verschijnt
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:                     stervelingen

And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,                   in het oud-Grieks
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung            om beurten, geworpen

A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,         meteen, me bewust
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;

And a voice said in mastery, while I strove, ---          worstelde
'Guess now who holds thee?' --- 'Death,' I said. But, there,
The silver answer rang, --- 'Not Death, but Love.'

*Theocritus: (308-240 BC) Griekse pastorale dichter

Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828 - 1882)

Silent noon

Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass, 
The finger-points look through like rosy blooms:
Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms    weiland
'Neath billowing clouds that scatter and amass.         golvende

All round our nest, far as the eye can pass,
Are golden kingcup fields with silver edge              boterbloemen
Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn hedge.        fluitekruid
'Tis visible silence, still as the hour glass.          zandloper

Deep in the sunsearched growths the dragon-fly          gewassen
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky:         libelle
So this winged hour is dropt to us from above.          ons toegeworpen

Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,        bruidschat
This close-companioned inarticulate hour                onuitgesproken
When twofold silence was the song of love.              tweevoudige

Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 –1950)

Love Is Not All

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink			
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; 		sluimer
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink 		paal
And rise and sink and rise and sink again; 

Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath, 	dikgeworden
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone; 	gebroken
Yet many a man is making friends with death 
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone. 		gebrek aan

It well may be that in a difficult hour, 
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release, 		bevrijding
Or nagged by want past resolution's power, 		vastberadenheid
I might be driven to sell your love for peace, 

Or trade the memory of this night for food             omruilen
It wel may be. I do not think I would                  het zou goed kunnen

Dorothy Parker (1893 – 1967)

One perfect rose

A single flow’r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet –
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret:                         bloempje
‘My fragile leaves’ it said, ‘his heart enclose.’             kwetsbare, omsluiten
Love long has taken for his amulet                            afweermiddel/talisman
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it’s always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.

W.H. Auden (1907 – 1973)

If I could tell you

Time can say nothing but I told you so,

Time only knows the price we have to pay;

If I could tell you, I would let you know.

 

If we should weep when clowns put on their show,

If we should stumble when musicians play,                    struikelen

Time can say nothing but I told you so.

There are no fortunes to be told, although                    toekomst voorspellen

Because I love you more than I can say,

If I could tell you, I would let you know.

 

The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,

There must be reasons why the leaves decay;                 vervallen

Time can say nothing but I told you so.

 

Perhaps the roses really want to grow,

The vision seriously intends to stay;                               is van plan

If I could tell you, I would let you know.

 

Suppose the lions all get up and go,

And all the brooks and soldiers run away?

Time can say nothing but I told you so.

If I could tell you, I would let you know.

Wendy Cope (b. 1945)

Bloody men

Bloody men are like bloody buses
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.

You look at them flashing their indicators                richtingaanwijzers aan
Offering you a ride.
You’re trying to read their destinations,                  bestemmingen
You haven’t much time to decide.

If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you’ll stand there and gaze
While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.