Sonnet 130
Laijon Liu 20160624
My Mistress’ eyes that verses can’t describe
Coral is red but her lips may be purple or blue
Her breasts I haven’t seen, only my dreams draw
Her hair wire or splash that must be some bliss
Yeah, we men all buy and send roses, bore
But I think she prefers kales to blooms
And perfumes kill senses, less is more
So sitting beside her I know I’m home
I wish I hear her voice someday somehow
And praise her rap or growl, say: “O! Beethoven!”
I’ve seen so many goddesses sail, but
If my Mistress stomps, the Empire
Tower sways.
So, by hell, I’m sure my love is rare
No matter how you dig and compare
Note:
This is a reply-poem to the Bard’s reply-poem to an
original poet that learned from book [Art of Shakespeare Sonnet, page# 556] by
Helen Vendler, great help!
Sonnet 130 by Shakespeare, a reply-poem
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
damasked, 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.
The Original Sonnet
My mistress’ eyes are brilliant like the sun;
And coral’s color matches her lips’ red;
Her snowy breasts are like to others none,
And golden wires ornament her head.
A bed of damask roses, red and white,
I find within the confines of her cheeks,
And perfume’s self, conferring all delight,
Breathes in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, and well I know
That only music hath such pleasing sound;
In walking she doth like a goddess go,
Her dainty feet scarce printing on the ground.
In all,, by
heaven I think my love as rare
As any she
conceived for compare.
