stiu ca nu e primavara, nici nu ma asteptam ca avantul meu liric sa fie atat de meteo independent, dar m-a cuprins un entuziasm don-quijotesc, un elan naiv, pe care il mai scot de la naftalina din cand in cand, la ocazii, o inflacarare tivita cu viniete medievale, minuscule si induiosatoare posturi de courtly love.
mm, cam atat.
6 responses so far ↓
Iulianus // November 4, 2009 at 8:17 pm |
The warmth of summer is still on you. Not to spoil your naive enthusiasm, but the winter is still young. : )
Bogdan // November 4, 2009 at 10:01 pm |
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
sheherzadah // November 5, 2009 at 10:55 am |
the Bard is far from being… medieval: ). nice sonnet.
sa nu uiti sa imi aduci cartea aia maine. presimt ca o sa va plictisesc cu o recenzie a “Dragostei in Evul Mediu” si am nevoie de resurse.: )
Bogdan // November 5, 2009 at 5:34 pm |
nu ma referam la perioada :)
misiunea lui WS a fost tocmai de a ascunde in opera lui ceva extrem de pretios ce era foarte sigur ca se va pierde odata cu Renasterea. Dar asta e o problema care ar merita o discutie mai lunga.
nu uit :)
sheherzadah // November 5, 2009 at 7:27 pm |
nici eu nu ma refeream la perioada. era un joc de cuvinte. evident, nereusit: ).
Bogdan // November 5, 2009 at 8:47 pm |
Mi se reproseaza de obicei ca sunt rigid in opinii si ca imi scapa detaliile. Asta e inca un exemplu :(
de acum incolo o sa te citesc fara a mai fi “dependent” de antena 3 :))