W.B. Yeats, Song of wandering Aengus

[Parcelsus]

Yes, Katerina, many of Yeats early poems are very Romantic.

Here is another.

When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

     – William Butler Yeats

[sopherina]

This theme of the changing, growing old face of the beloved person reminds me of the Shakespeare sonnets.
And a sonnet by Pierre Ronsard, a french poet of the 16th century.

[banned8]

To wit:

Pierre de Ronsard from Sonnets pour Hélène Quand vous serez bien vieille, au soir, à la chandelle, Assise aupres du feu, devidant et filant, Direz, chantant mes vers, en vous esmerveillant : Ronsard me celebroit du temps que j'estois belle. Lors, vous n'aurez servante oyant telle nouvelle, Desja sous le labeur à demy sommeillant, Qui au bruit de mon nom ne s'aille resveillant, Benissant vostre nom de louange immortelle. Je seray sous la terre et fantaume sans os : Par les ombres myrteux je prendray mon repos : Vous serez au fouyer une vieille accroupie, Regrettant mon amour et vostre fier desdain. Vivez, si m'en croyez, n'attendez à demain : Cueillez dés aujourd'huy les roses de la vie.

English rendition by Humbert Wolfe       (more poetic than precise):       When you are old, at evening candle-lit,         beside the fire bending to your wool,       read out my verse and murmur "Ronsard writ         this praise for me when I was beautiful."       And not a maid but at the sound of it,         though nodding at the stitch on broidered stool,       will start awake, and bless love's benefit,         whose long fidelities bring Time to school.       I shall be thin and ghost beneath the earth,         by myrtle-shade in quiet after pain,       but you, a crone will crouch beside the hearth,         mourning my love and all your proud disdain.       And what comes to-morrow who can say?       Live, pluck the roses of the world to-day.

[sopherina]

I' m impressed, Niko!!! And you said you didn't like poetry!

[banned8]

What I said was that I prefer to read other stuff.

[Parcelsus]

Yes, the aging of the beloved is a strong theme in Shakespeare's sonnets.

Here is one you probably had in mind.

However, the beloved other in this case happens to be a young gentleman.


SONNET 2

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tattered weed of small worth held.
Then being asked where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say within thine own deep-sunken eyes
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use
If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse',
Proving his beauty by succession thine.
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.

 - William Shakespeare.

[sopherina]

However, the beloved other in this case happens to be a young gentleman.

Yes, that's why I wrote "beloved person".
I love Shakespeare's sonnets. #2 is not my very favourite but still... :-))
Allow me to post the greek translation by Vassilis Rotas and Voula Damianakou:

Σαρανταχείμωνο όταν ζώσει τη θωριά σου
και σκάψει τάφρους στην αβρή σου, λεία μορφή
η αγέρωχη στολή της νιότης, η ομορφιά σου,
τότε θα'ναι ξερά χορτάρια, συριπή.

Τότε αν ρωτήσουν πού 'ν τα κάλλη σου θαμμένα
πού 'ν όλοι οι θησαυροί της σφριγηλής σου νιότης
και ειπείς μέσα στα μάτια σου τα γουβιασμένα
θα' ναι αίσχος σου το τέλος κι ο ύμνος σου προδότης.

Μα τι ύμνους θα άξιζε η ομορφιά σου αν, ξοδεμένη,
θ' αποκρινόταν "τούτο το τέκνο είν' από μένα
θα κλείσει τον λογαριασμό που ΄μαι χρεωμένη"
με απόδειξη το κάλλος που 'λαβε από σένα.

Θα 'νιωθες τότε νέο το γέρικό σου βλέμμα,
ζεστό ξανά θα σου 'σφυζε το νέο σου αίμα.

[Parcelsus]

Thanks for posting that translation, Katerina.

I am trying to learn modern Greek (as well as ancient), so that will be helpful to study.

And who knows, perhaps one day I can translate English poetry into Greek, as well as trying to put Homer's Greek into English.