Like the sun with a purple face
Had taken her last leave to cry in the morning
The red-cheeked Adonis tempted him;
He loved hunting but despised love;
Sick Venus makes him happy,
And like a daring suitor, he wants to woo you.
"Three times prettier than me," she began,
"The chief flower of the field, sweet above all else,
Defile all nymphs more beautiful than a man,
Whiter and redder than doves or roses;
nature that made you fight with yourself,
Says the world ends your life.
"Let you want to leave your steed,
And bridle your proud head in the saddle's bow;
If you want to show this favor, for your meed
You must know a thousand sweet secrets:
Come here and sit where a snake never hisses;
And composed I will smother you with kisses:
"And still not smear your lips with loathsome saturation,
But rather let them starve amidst their plenty,
Make them red and pale with fresh variety;
Ten kisses as short as one, one as long as twenty:
A summer day will appear for an hour, but short,
Wasted on such a time-consuming sport.”
With that she grabs your sweaty hand,
The brand and livelihood precedent,
And, trembling in his passion, he calls it balm,
The sovereign ointment of the earth to do good to a goddess:
Thus enraged, desire gives him strength
Brave to pluck him from his horse.
On one arm the reins of the strong pilot
Below her was the suit boy
Who blushed and pouted in dull contempt,
With lead appetite, unfit for toys;
She was red and hot like coals of bright fire
He was red with embarrassment, but cold with desire.
The bridle studded on a ragged branch
Quickly she fastens herself; - O! How fast is love :--
The steed faltered, and even now
To captivate the knight, she begins to taste:
She pushed him back as if she wanted to be pushed.
And he ruled it with power, if not with lust.
She was there as soon as he fell
Everyone leans on their elbows and hips:
Now she strokes his cheek, now he frowns,
And begins to scold, but soon she smothers her lips;
And the kiss speaks, broken with lascivious language,
"If you want to scold, your lips will never part."
He burns with timid shame; her with her tears
Quench the virginal ardor in your cheeks;
So with your windy sighs and golden hair
To spread them out again and dry them, look for them:
He says that she is indecent, scolds her miss;
What follows, kills her with a kiss.
Even like an empty eagle, sharp through swift,
they tire themselves with their beaks in their feathers, flesh and bone,
She shakes her wings, devours everything in a hurry,
Until the pass is overcrowded or the loot runs out;
Then she kissed his forehead, his cheek, his chin,
And where it stops, it starts again.
Forced to please but never obey
He gasps and breathes in her face;
She feeds on steam like prey
And call it heavenly moisture, air of grace;
She wished her cheeks were gardens of flowers
So they were drunk from such distillation baths.
Visual! like a bird caught in a net,
Thus lies Adonis in her arms;
Sheer shame and terrible resistance made him angry,
What brought out the most beauty in your angry eyes:
Added rain to a river that is rank
Necessarily, this will break the bank.
Still she begs and begs beautifully
To a pretty ear, she agrees with her story;
He's still grumpy, he's still crying and getting angry
'Twixt crimson shame and gray rage;
Being a redhead, she loves him more; and be white
Your best is better with more pleasure.
Look how he can, she can't choose but to love;
And by her fair immortal hand she swears
From your tender bosom never to be removed
Until he makes a truce with his fighting tears
Who rained a lot and wet cheeks everywhere;
And a sweet kiss will pay these countless debts.
With that promise, he lifted his chin
Like a diver looking across a wave
Who, looking, stoops so quickly;
So he offers to give her what she craved;
But when your lips were ready for your reward
He blinks and turns his lips in a different direction.
Never a passenger in the summer heat
More thirsty for drink than for that good turn.
She sees his help but gets no help;
She bathes in water, but her fire must burn:
'Oh! It's a pity," she cried, "boy with a heart of stone:
It's just a kiss, please; why are you shy
"I was wooed as I beg you now,
Even by the stern and terrible god of war,
Whose brawny neck never bowed in battle,
What an achievement where it arrives in each pitcher;
Yet he was my prisoner and my slave,
And asked for what he should have without asking.
"He hung his spear over my altars,
Your shield broken, your crest uncontrolled,
And I learned sports and dance for my own sake
To play, to wanton, to waste time, to smile and play;
Despise your grouchy drum and red pennant
Make my weapons your field, your tent my bed.
"So the one who rolled me
Take him captive in a chain of red roses:
Strong steel obeyed his strongest strength,
And yet he was subservient to my timid scorn.
Oh! do not be proud and do not boast of your power,
By overpowering them, he defeated the god of battle.
Just touch my lips with your fake lips,--
Although mine aren't as pretty, they're red -
The kiss will be yours and mine:
What do you see on the floor? Heads up:
Look into my eyes, there's your beauty;
So why not lips to lips, why eyes to eyes?
"Are you embarrassed to kiss? so blink again
And I will blink; thus the day will appear in the night;
Love celebrates its feasts where there are but two;
Be brave to play, our sport is nowhere in sight:
Those blue-veined violets we lean against
Can never babble, still doesn't know what we mean.
"The soft spring on your luscious lips
Show yourself immature, but prove well:
Seize the time, don't miss any advantage;
The beauty itself is not to be missed:
Beautiful flowers that are not picked in their bloom
They rot and are consumed in a short time.
"I was disadvantaged, spoiled or aged,
Malnourished, crooked, taciturn, with a harsh voice,
Too tired, scorned, rheumatic and cold,
Thick, sterile, thin and without juice,
Then you could stop, because then I wasn't for you;
But without fail, why do you hate me?
“You cannot see a single blink on my forehead;
My eyes are gray and clear and they roll quickly;
My beauty grows every year like spring;
My flesh is tender and turgid, my marrow is burning;
My hand soft and wet, if you could feel it with your hand.
It seems to dissolve or melt in the palm of your hand.
"Command me to speak, I will charm your ear,
Or stumble in the green like a fairy,
Or, like a nymph, with long disheveled hair,
Dance in the sand, and still see no foot:
Love is an all solid spirit of fire,
It's not gross to sink, but it's easy and will put in the effort.
“Here is this bench of primroses on which I lie;
These feeble flowers, like mighty trees, sustain me;
Two helpless doves will pull me across the sky
From morning to night, also where I list for fun:
Love is so easy, sweet boy, and whatever
Is it difficult for you?
“Is your own heart affected to light up your own face?
Can your right hand grasp love with your left?
So promote yourself, get rejected by you,
Steal your own freedom and claim theft.
So Narcissus left
And died to kiss his shadow in the brook.
"Torches are made to light, jewels to carry,
Delights to savor, fresh beauty to wear,
herbs for its scent and succulent plants for carrying;
Things that grow to themselves are the abuse of growth:
Seeds come from seeds, and beauty begets beauty;
you were conceived; it is your duty to obtain it.
"Why should you nurture when the earth is growing,
Is not the earth fed with its products?
By the law of nature you are obligated to procreate,
Therefore, live your life when you yourself are dead;
And so you survive despite death,
In this, his likeness is still left alive.”
Then the queen in love began to sweat
For where they lay the shadow had left them,
And Titan, weary in the midday heat
With burning eyes she vehemently ignored,
I wish Adonis had his team to lead
So he was like him and next to Venus.
And now Adonis with lazy panache,
And with a heavy, dark eye
His peeking brows overwhelm his beautiful vision,
Like wisps of mist when they stain the sky,
Sour your cheeks and scream, "Ugh! It's over love
The sun burns my face; I have to remove.'
"Alas," said Venus, "young and so cruel!
What mere excuses drive him away!
I will sigh heavenly breath, whose gentle wind
Must cool the heat of this setting sun:
I will make you a shadow of my hair;
If they burn too, I will put them out with my tears.
"The sun that shines from the sky shines only warm,
Check it out! I lie between this sun and you:
The heat I have from there does little harm,
Your eye shoots the fire that burns me;
And if I wasn't immortal, life would be over
Between this celestial and terrestrial sun.
"Are you stubborn, hard as steel?
No, more than flint, because the stone gives way to the rain:
You are the son of a woman and you cannot feel
What is love? how does the lack of love torment?
Oh! If your mother had held so stubbornly
She didn't give birth to you, but she died cruel.
"What am I that you despise me so much?
Or what great danger lies in my costume?
What were your lips worse for a bad kiss?
speak, beautiful; but speak nice words, or be dumb:
give me a kiss, I'll give it to you again,
And one interest if you want two.
"Gee! lifeless image, stone cold and meaningless,
Well-painted idol, dull and dead image,
satisfied statue, but only the eye,
Thing like a man, but created by no woman:
You are not a man, although of male skin color,
Because men even kiss alone.
Having said this, impatience chokes his pleading tongue,
And the rising passion causes a pause;
Red cheeks and burning eyes radiate their mistakes;
Like a passionate judge, she can't get her way:
And now she's crying, and now she wants to talk
And now your sobs are ruining your intentions.
Sometimes she shakes her head and then his hand;
Now she looks to him, now to the earth;
Sometimes your arms wrap around you like a ribbon:
She would, he wouldn't be trapped in her arms;
And when he fights his way out of there
She intertwines her lily fingers one by one.
"The caress," she says, "since I hit you here
Within the circle of this ivory,
I will be a park and you will be my deer;
Eat wherever you like, on the mountain or in the valley:
Stripes on my lips and when these hills are dry
Lose yourself deeper where the pleasant springs are.
"Within that limit, relief is sufficient
sweet grass and high and delicious plain,
Round crescent hills, dark and rough curbs
To protect you from storm and rain:
So be my deer, as I am a park;
No dog will wake you up, even if a thousand bark.”
Then Adonis sneers,
That a pretty dimple appears on each cheek:
Love made these holes when he himself was killed
He could be buried in such a plain grave;
Well anticipating when he was there
Well, that's where love lived, and that's where it couldn't die.
Those lovely caves, those lovely round wells,
they opened their mouths to swallow people like Venus.
She was crazy before, how is she sane now?
First strike dead, what needs a second strike?
Poor queen of love lost in her own law
Loving a cheek that mocks you!
Where should she turn now? what should she say?
Your words ended, your illnesses increased;
Time is spent, its object is gone,
And from her contorted arms she insists on letting go:
"Too bad," she cries; "some favor, some regrets!"
He jumps up and runs to his horse.
But lo and behold! from here a forest that surrounds,
A breeding Jennet, lush, young and proud,
Adonis' trampled messenger suspects
And she runs, snorts and neighs loudly:
The strong-necked steed tied to a tree,
Break his reins and he goes straight for her.
He jumps wonderfully, he neighs, he jumps,
And now he breaks his braided handles;
He strikes the earth he holds with his hard hoof,
Whose hollow belly resounds like the thunder of heaven;
He crushes the iron teeth between his teeth,
Control what he was controlled with.
he sharpened his ears; your mane hanging braided
You are now standing on the crest of the compass;
Your nostrils drink the air and come back,
As from a furnace, he gives off smoke:
Your eye that gleams mockingly like fire,
It shows your hot courage and your high lust.
At some point he trots as if he had said the steps,
With gentle majesty and humble pride;
Immediately he straightens up, turns and jumps,
Because who should say, “Look! thus is my strength tested;
And I do it for attention
From the righteous creator who is around.
Why does he flee from his knight's angry emotion,
Your flattering "Holla" or your "Stand, I say"?
What does he care about curb or spur?
For rich pranks or arresting gays?
He sees his love and sees nothing else
Nothing else matches her proud appearance.
See if a painter could outrun life
caress a well-proportioned steed,
His art in dispute with the processing of nature,
As if the dead outnumber the living;
So this horse surpassed an ordinary one,
In form, courage, color, rhythm and bones.
Round hooves, short limbs, shaggy and long pasterns,
Broad chest, full eyes, small head and wide nostrils,
High crest, short ears, straight legs and powerful pass,
Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttocks, delicate coat:
Look what a horse must have, there was no lack,
Save a proud knight on such proud shores.
Sometimes he shoots away, and there he looks;
A moment later, he starts fiddling with a pen;
To provide a base for the wind, now prepare,
And whether he runs or flies, they don't know;
For through his mane and tail the strong wind sings,
Spread the hair, which sways like feathered wings.
He looks at his love and neighs at her;
She responds to him as if she knows his thoughts;
To be proud as women are, to watch him court them,
She looks strange on the outside, looks hostile,
Despises his love and despises the warmth he feels
Slap your friendly hugs with your heels.
Then, like a disaffected melancholy,
He wags his tail like a falling feather
Cold shade lent to her melting buttocks:
He stomps and bites the poor flies in his smoke.
His love realizing how angry he is
He became friendlier and his anger was calmed.
His angry master wants to take him away;
When to see! the fearless creator full of fear,
Jealous to catch it, quickly abandon it,
With her the horse and left Adonis there:
When they were angry, they took her into the forest.
overtaking the crows that strive to fly over them.
All swollen from rubbing, Adonis sits below,
Forbid your impetuous and unruly animal:
And now the happy season falls into place again,
This passionate love can be blessed by asking;
Because lovers say the heart has wrong highs
When the help of the tongue is forbidden.
A furnace that is choked or a river that remains,
Burns hotter, swells with rage:
This can be said of hidden suffering;
Free verbiage soothes the fire of love;
But since the heart's lawyer is mute
The customer breaks into his suit with the same desperation.
He sees them coming and begins to glow, -
As a dying coal is revived by the wind, -
And with his hood hides his angry forehead;
Look at the desolate land with a troubled mind,
Not realizing she's so close
Despite all the skepticism, he keeps an eye on her.
Oh! what a spectacle it was to look longingly
How she stole the wayward boy;
To observe the combat strife of your color,
How white and red destroyed each other:
But now her cheek was pale and gradually
It lit fire like lightning from heaven.
Now she was right in front of him as he sat down
And like a humble lover she kneels;
With a beautiful hand she lifts her hat,
The other delicate hand touches his face:
Your soft cheek is imprinted by your gentle hand,
As appropriate as fresh snow washes away all the dirt.
Oh! what a war of looks there was between them then;
Your eyes plead with your plaintive eyes;
His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen her;
Her eyes court silently, his eyes despise courtship:
And all this silly game made clear your actions
Tears from that refrain rained into her eyes.
She gently takes him by the hand
A lily trapped in a snowy dungeon
Or ivory in an alabaster band;
As a friend knows, so does an enemy know:
This beautiful struggle, voluntary and involuntary,
Show would like two silver doves to sit on the bill.
The engine of his thoughts started once more:
'O fairest engine in this deadly round,
If you were like me and I was human
My heart like yours, your heart my wound;
For a sweet look I would assure you of your help,
Though nothing but my body's curse could cure it."
"Give me my hand," he says, "why do you feel that way?"
'Give me my heart,' she says, 'and you shall have it;
Oh! give it to me, lest your hard heart steal it away,
And hardened and gentle sighs can never bury it:
So I'll never look at the deep moans of love
Because Adonis' heart hardened mine."
“Shame,” he cries out, “let go and release me;
My joy of the day is gone, my horse is gone,
And it's your fault that I stole it like this:
So I beg you and leave me here alone:
All through my mind, my thinking, my busy worry,
This is how I get my Palfrey off the mare."
Then she replies: "Your Palfrey, as you should,
Welcomes the warm approach of sweet wish:
Affection is an ember that needs to be cooled;
Otherwise, suffering, it will set the heart on fire:
The sea has limits, but deep nostalgia does not;
So it's no wonder your horse is gone.
"Like a jade he stood, tied to the tree,
Dominated submissively with leather reins!
But when he saw his love, the just reward of his youth
He despised this petty servitude;
Throw the bottom handle of your curved crest,
It deprives the mouth, the back, the chest.
"Who sees his true love in his naked bed,
Teach the sheets a shade whiter than white,
But when your gourmand eye is so full
Do your other agents crave similar pleasure?
Who is so weak dare not be so bold
Touch fire in cold weather?
“Let me excuse your running, kind boy;
And learn from him, I beg you from the heart,
Exploring the joy presented
Though I was mute, your approach teaches you.
O learn to love, the lesson is clear
And once perfected, never lost.
"I don't know love," he said, "neither do I,
Unless it's a wild boar, and then I hunt it;
It's a lot to borrow and I won't go into debt;
To love my love is love, but to dishonor it;
Because I heard that there is life in death
Who laughs and cries, and anything but a touch.
“Who wears a shapeless and unfinished dress?
Who pulls off the bud before a leaf comes out?
When bouncy things are dwarfed by an iota,
They wither in their prime, proving themselves useless;
The colt, withdrawn and overworked, is young
It loses its pride and never grows strong.
"You hurt my hand fighting. Let's get divorced
And leave this idle subject, this contentless talk:
Remove your siege from my unyielding heart;
Love will not open the gate:
Throw away your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery;
Because where the heart is hard, they don't make a battery.”
'What! can you speak?" she said, "do you have a tongue?
Oh! you would not have, or I would not have listened;
Her siren voice hurt me twice as much;
I had pressed my charge before, now bearing:
melodious discord, heavenly melody, harsh sonority,
The sweet deep music of the ear and the deep wound of the heart.
"If I had no eyes but ears, my ears would love
That inner, invisible beauty;
Or if I was deaf would your outer parts move
Every part of me that was just sane:
Though neither eyes nor ears to hear or see,
But I should be in love with touching you.
"Say I was robbed of feelings
And that I couldn't see or hear or touch
And I have nothing left but the smell
But my love for you would still be so great;
Why get out of style with your face
Comes a fragrant breath that brings love for the smell.
"But oh! what a feast you were
being the nurse and provider for the other four;
They don't wish the festival could last
And ask the suspect to lock the door twice,
For fear of jealousy, that unpleasant and unwanted guest,
Should he disrupt the party by sneaking in?
Once again the ruby red portal opened,
That brought your honey pass of speech,
Like a red morning still hinting
shipwreck for the sailor, storm for the field,
Woe to shepherds, woe to birds,
Gusts and rotten insects for shepherds and herds.
She markets this bad premonition carefully:
Even if the wind stops before it rains
Or how the wolf smiles before he barks,
Or how the berry breaks before it tarnishes,
Or like the deadly bullet from a gun
His meaning hit her before his words started.
And when he looks at her, she falls to the ground
Because looks kill love, and love by looks enlivens;
A smile repeats the pain of a frown;
But blessed bankrupt so prosperous in love!
The stupid boy who thinks she's dead
He slaps her pale cheek until the slap makes her blush;
And quite surprised he broke off his belated intention,
For he intensely thought to reproach them,
What cunning love prevented witty:
Beautiful case the joke who knows how to defend it so well!
Because in the grass she lies dead
Until his breath brings life back to her.
He wrinkles her nose, he slaps her cheeks,
He bends her fingers, takes her pulse,
He rubs her lips; he looks for a thousand ways
To heal the pain your cruelty has dulled:
He kissed her; and she, of her good will,
He'll never get up, so he'll still kiss her.
The night of mourning has now become day:
She gently lifts her two blue windows,
Like the beautiful sun in its cool mantle
He cheers up the morning, and the whole world is relieved:
And as the radiant sun glorifies heaven,
So your face is lit by your eyes;
Whose rays are fixed on his hairless face,
As if they had borrowed all their splendor from there.
Never were four of these lamps mixed together,
If only he hadn't numbed himself to her brow's repudiation;
But from her who gave light through crystal tears
It shone like the moon on water at night.
'Oh! Where am I?" said she, “on earth or in heaven,
Or in the watered ocean, or in the fire?
What time are these? or morning or even tired?
Do I rejoice in dying or do I long for life?
But now I lived, and life was the problem of death;
But now I died, and death was living joy.
'Oh! you killed me; Kill me again:
The smart educator of your eyes, your hard heart,
Taught him scornful tricks, and such scorn
That they murdered my poor heart;
And these eyes of mine, true guides to their queen,
But for her pathetic lips no one had seen more.
"May they kiss each other long for this medicine!
Oh! never let your crimson liveries be used;
And while they last, the green lasts,
To banish dangerous year infections:
That the astronomers who wrote to death
The plague can be said to be banished by its breath.
'Pure lips, sweet seals imprinted on my tender lips,
What bargains can I pick up that haven't been sealed yet?
To sell me I can be satisfied
So you go buy and pay and get a good deal;
What purchase do you make for fear of slipping
Place your secrecy manual on my wax red lips.
“My heart buys a thousand kisses;
And pay them however you want, one at a time.
What are a thousand touches to you?
Are they not said quickly and quickly disappear?
Let's say that in case of non-payment, the debt will be doubled,
Is 200 kisses so boring?
"Fair Queen," he said, "if you owe me some love,
Measure my strangeness by my immature years:
Until I know myself, don't seek to know me;
No fisherman but the young fish refrain:
The soft plum falls, the green sticks fast,
Or being picked early tastes sour.
'Visual! the comforter of the world, with a weary walk
The hot task of your day has come to an end in the West;
The owl, harbinger of the night, peeps, it's too late;
The sheep went to the flock, the birds to the nest,
And coal clouds shading the sky's light
Call us goodbye and say good night.
“Now let me say goodnight, and so do you;
If you say so, you'll get a kiss.
"Good night," said she; and before he says goodbye
The farewell rate for honey is:
Her arms give a sweet hug around his neck;
Integrate then look, face grows face.
Until, out of breath, he let go and pulled back.
The heavenly wetness, that sweet coral mouth,
Whose precious taste their thirsty lips knew well,
What they get tired of and still complain about the drought:
Him with his abundance, they swoon with desire,
Their lips glued together, they fall to the floor.
Now swift lust has caught the surrendering prey,
And like a glutton it nourishes, but never satisfies;
Your lips are conquerors, your lips obey,
pay whatever the offender wants as a ransom;
Whose vulture's thought outweighs the price so high,
That she will dry up the rich treasure of her lips.
And after I felt the sweetness of the booty
With associated anger, she begins to eat;
Your face stinks and steams, your blood boils,
And carefree lust awakens desperate courage;
Plant forgotten, fight reason,
Forget the sheer flush of shame and the sinking of honor.
Hot and weak and tired, with your hard embrace,
Like a wild bird tamed with a lot of handling
Or like the swift-footed deer, weary of the chase,
Or like the rebel boy who's still dancing
He now obeys and no longer resists,
While she takes everything she can, not everything she wants.
What wax is so frozen, but dissolves when tempered,
And finally gives in to every impression of light?
Hopeless things are often embraced with risk,
Mostly passionate, whose vacation exceeds the commission:
Affection does not fade like a pale coward,
But then he advertises best when most of his decisions are cheeky.
As he frowned, O! so she gave up
She hadn't sucked that much nectar from her lips.
Swearing and frowning should not repel a lover;
What, though the rose has thorns, is plucked:
Beauty was kept under twenty locks,
But love breaks through and eventually chooses them all.
Too bad, now she can't hold him anymore;
The poor fool begs her to go:
She is determined not to hold him back any longer,
Say goodbye to him and take good care of her heart,
What she protests in Cupid's bow,
He carries it strapped to his chest.
"Sweet boy," she says, "this night I will waste in mourning,
For my sick heart commands my eyes to behold.
Tell me, master of love, we'll meet tomorrow
Say, shall we? We should? Do you want to make the match?
He says no; tomorrow he wants
To hunt the wild boar with some of your friends.
“The wild boar!” she said; to which a sudden pale
As the grass is scattered in the blushing rose,
Usurps her cheeks, she trembles with her story,
And around his neck she throws her yoke arms:
It sinks to the ground still hanging around your neck
He lands on his stomach, she on her back.
Now she's on the love lists,
Your champion rose to the hot encounter:
Everything is imaginary, she proves
He will not lead them though he mounts them;
Worse than Tantalus is her anger
Pruning Elysium and losing its joy.
Like poor birds, deceived by painted grapes,
Satisfy the eye and afflict the throat,
Even so she languishes in her misfortunes,
Like those poor birds that saw helpless berries.
The warm effects she misses him
She tries to light it up by constantly kissing.
But all in vain, good queen, it will not be:
She has tested what can be proved;
Your order deserves a higher rate;
She is love, she loves and yet she is not loved.
he says, "you crush me; ugh, ugh!" Let me go;
You have no reason to deny me that.
"You're gone," she said, "sweet boy before that,
But you told me you would hunt the boar.
Oh! be warned you don't know what it is
With a spear point a grumpy pig to skewer,
Whose ass never covers, he still sharpens,
Like a mortal butcher bent on killing.
“He has a definite battle in his back bow
Of bristling spears that always threaten their enemies;
His eyes glow like fireflies when he's angry;
Its snout digs graves wherever it goes;
Moved, he strikes whatever stands in his way,
And who does he kill with his crooked buttocks.
"His muscular sides, armed with furry bristles,
They are better proofs than the point of his spear can pierce;
Its short, thick neck doesn't bruise easily;
Enraged, he dares to attack the lion:
The thorny brambles and surrounding bushes,
So scared of him, part he runs through.
'Oh! he doesn't appreciate your face
To whom the eyes of love pay tributary glances;
Nor your soft hands, sweet lips and crystal eyes,
Whose perfection amazes the whole world;
But to have you in the lead, wonderful horror!
It would root these beauties as it roots mead.
'Oh! let him keep his hideous cabin quiet;
Beauty has nothing to do with such evil demons:
Don't run the danger of it willingly;
Those who are prospering follow the advice of their friends.
When you named the boar not to disguise
I dreaded her happiness and my joints trembled.
"Didn't you draw my face? Wasn't it white?
Didn't you see signs of fear lurking in my eyes?
Have I not become weak? And did I really not fall?
In my chest where you lie
My promising heart gasps, beats and does not rest,
But like an earthquake shakes you against my chest.
“For where love reigns, jealousy interferes
Calls himself Guardian of Affection;
Gives false alarms, suggests riot,
And in an hour of peace he shouts "Kill, kill!"
Gentle love discouraging in your lust,
Just as air and water extinguish fire.
"That sour informant, that bat breeder,
This crab eating the tender spring of love
This fairy tale, stubborn jealousy,
That the news sometimes true, sometimes false,
beats in my heart and whispers in my ear
That if I love you I should fear your death:
“And more, it presents itself to my eyes
The image of a furiously skinned boar,
Under whose sharp fangs are on your back
An image like you, all stained with blood;
Whose blood is shed on fresh flowers
It makes her sink into pain and hang her head.
"What should I do if I really see you like this
Does it shudder to the imagination?
The thought of it makes my weak heart bleed
And fear teaches divination:
I prophesy your death, my living pain,
If you find the boar tomorrow.
“But if you must hunt, let me rule;
decoupling in the timid flying hare,
Or for the fox that thrives on subtlety
Or the deer that dare not face:
Chase these frightening creatures through the depths,
And stay on your well-breathed horse with your dog.
"And if you have the blind rabbit on foot,
Tag the poor guy to transcend his problems
How he overcomes the winds and with what care
He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles:
The many shalls through which he passes
They are like a labyrinth to surprise your enemies.
"Sometimes he walks through a flock of sheep,
So that cunning dogs spoil your scent,
And somewhere where the earth-digging cones dwell,
To stop the noisy pursuers in their scream
And sometimes it mixes with a herd of deer;
Danger invents twists, intelligence stalks fear:
"For there your scent mingles with others,
Hot-smelling hounds are led to doubt,
They cease their noisy screaming until they are isolated.
Clean the cold bug with a lot of noise;
Then they open their mouths: Echo replies,
As if there was another chase in the sky.
"By the way, poor Wat, far away on a hill,
Stands on hind legs with ear listening,
To find out if your enemies are still chasing you:
Immediately he hears her loud screams;
And now your pain can compare well
For a sick man who hears the passing bell.
"Then you will see the dew-stained villain
Go back and forth, following the path;
Every envious bush scratches its weary legs,
Every shadow stops him, every murmur remains:
For misery is invaded by many,
And being short never relieved anyone.
“Be still and listen some more;
No, don't fight, because you won't get up:
To make you hate wild boar hunting,
Unlike me, you hear me moralizing
Apply this to this and so on;
For love can comment on any affliction.
"Where did I go?" "Anywhere," he said
"Leave me alone, and so the story ends appropriately:
The night is over.” “Well, so what?” she said.
'I am,' said he, 'expected by my friends;
And now it's dark, and if I go, I'll fall."
"At night," she said, "lust sees better."
But if you fall, oh! so imagine this
The earth, in love with you, your steps travel,
And it's all just to steal a kiss from you.
Rich spoils turn real men into thieves; your lips too
Make lowly Dian cloudy and lost,
Lest she steal a kiss and die, renegade.
"Now in this dark night I see why:
Cynthia dims her silvery glow in shame
Until the wrought nature of treason is condemned,
For stealing divine forms from the sky;
In which she framed you despite the high sky,
The sun by day and shame you by night.
"And that's why she bribed fate,
To get through nature's curious processing
mix beauty with disease,
And pure perfection with impure defeat;
Subjugate-o to tyranny
Of crazy coincidences and a lot of misery;
"Like burning fever, pale and weak fever,
Life-poisoning plague and frantic wood,
The marrow-eating disease, its acquisition
The disorder arises from heating the blood;
gluts, deceit, heartache and damn despair,
Swear nature to death for making her so beautiful.
“And last but not least, all these diseases
But in a minute struggle harbors beauty:
Both prefer, appreciate colors and qualities,
What the impartial spectator later wondered,
Suddenly they are wasted, thawed and finished,
How mountain snow melts in the midday sun.
"Therefore, despite fruitless chastity,
Loveless vestals and self-loving nuns,
That would create a shortage on Earth
And barren desire for daughters and sons,
Be generous: the lamp that burns at night
It drains its oil to lend its light to the world.
"What is your body but a devouring grave,
Seems to bury this posterity
What you need from time to time
If you don't destroy them in the dark?
If so, the world will despise you,
Sith in their pride is so beautiful a dead hope.
“Then you are eliminated in yourself;
A calamity worse than bourgeois domestic strife,
Or her, whose desperate hands kill each other,
Or butcher father who reeves his son's life.
Filthy rottenness rusts hidden alliances,
But used gold makes more gold.”
“No, then,” said Adon, “you will fall again
In thy idle and exaggerated business;
The kiss I gave you was in vain
And in vain do you struggle against the current;
For in this dark night, lust's corrupt nurse,
Your memories make me like you less and less.
"If love lent you twenty thousand tongues,
And every tongue moves more than yours
Enchanting as the siren's luscious songs,
But from my ear the tempting melody is blown;
Cause you know my heart is cocked in my ear
And it won't let a counterfeit note go in there;
"Lest deceitful harmony pass away
In the silent closing of my chest;
And then my little heart was all torn apart
He is denied rest in his room.
No, ma'am, no; My heart yearns not to moan
But sleep soundly as now he sleeps alone.
"What did you demand that I can't blame?
The path that leads to danger is slippery;
I don't hate love but I hate your love device
Who gives hugs to any stranger.
You do this to increase: O strange excuse!
When the reason is the abuse of lust.
"Don't say that, love, for love fled to heaven,
Since lust sweated on earth usurped your name;
Under whose humble guise he fed
In fresh beauty, staining her with guilt;
Whom the hot tyrant stains and then robs,
The tender leaves act like caterpillars.
"Love comforts like the sun after the rain,
But the effect of lust is to chase after the sun;
The gentle spring of love always remains fresh,
The winter of lust arrives before the summer ends.
Love does not satisfy, lust dies like a glutton;
Love is all truth, lust full of made up lies.
“I could say more, but I dare not say more;
The text is old, the speaker is very green.
So now I will go away sad;
My face is full of shame, my teenage heart:
My ears that belonged to your wanton chatter
Get burned for feeling so offended.
With that he disentangles himself from the sweet embrace.
Of those beautiful arms that held him to her breast
And homewards through the dark laundry room he runs fast;
Leaving love on your deeply saddened back.
See a bright star shoot from the sky
Then he slips from the eye of Venus into the night;
That she runs after like one to the beach
glimpses of a friend boarded late,
Until the wild waves saw him no more
Whose crests quarrel with the clouds that meet:
So also the merciless and pitch-black night
Double the item that fueled your vision.
What amazes you, as someone who doesn't know
Dropped a precious gem in the tide
Or amazed, as night walkers often are,
Its light was extinguished in a suspicious wood;
So confused she lay in the dark
Having lost the beautiful discovery of your path.
And now she beats her heart as she moans
Let all the neighbors, as if disturbed, give in,
Do verbal repetitions of your groans;
Passion upon passion is deeply duplicated:
"Woe is me!" she screams, and twenty times: "Ow, ow!"
And twenty echoes scream twenty times like this.
She marks them, starts a wail,
And sings a little sad song off the cuff;
How love captivates the young and enchants the old;
How foolishly wise is love in madness:
Their heavy anthem still ends in disgrace,
And still the chorus of echoes responds.
Your music was boring and drowned out the night
For the hours of lovers are long though they seem short:
If they rejoiced, they rejoiced, they think
In such circumstances, in such a sport:
His extensive stories, often initiated
End without audience and never finalized.
Because who has them to spend the night with
But idle noise is like parasites;
Like high-tongued tavern keepers answering every call
Calm the mood of fantastic jokes?
She says, “It is like this.” They answer everyone: "It is so."
And would say after her if she said "no".
Consult! here the sleepy lark,
From the top of your damp closet,
And the morning awakens from its silver breast
The sun rises in its majesty;
Whom the world sees so gloriously
That the cedar peaks and hills look like burnished gold.
Venus greets you with this beautiful good morning:
"O thou clear god and patron of all light,
From whom every lamp and every shining star borrows
The beautiful influence that makes you bright,
There lives a son who nursed an earthly mother,
May you lend light as you do to others.
Having said this, she hurries to a myrtle grove,
Thinking about the morning is so tiring
And yet she hears nothing of her love;
She listens to her dogs and her horn:
Immediately afterwards she hears them singing with pleasure,
And in a hurry she rolls to the scream.
And as she walks, the bushes get in the way
Some grab her by the neck, some kiss her face
A rope around your thigh to keep it:
She breaks wildly from his tight embrace,
Like a milk deer whose swollen temples ache,
She ran to feed her deer, which was hiding in a fly.
Through this she hears that the dogs are in a pen;
Where does it begin, as one who sees a viper
wreath in deadly folds right in your way,
The fear of it makes him tremble and shudder;
Yet the anxious howl of dogs
They horrified their senses and confused their minds.
Because now she knows it's not a gentle chase
But the blind boar, the rude bear or the proud lion,
Because the scream stays in one place
Anxious, the dogs scream loudly:
Find your enemy so badly
They all try to be polite about who should deal with it first.
That dark cry sounds sad in your ear,
Where do you enter to surprise your heart;
Who, overcome by doubt and bloodless fear,
Every part of feeling is numb with cold, pale weakness;
Like soldiers, once their captain gives in,
They fly stingy and dare not leave the field.
Then she stands in shivering ecstasy,
Till animate your senses
She tells them it's a baseless fantasy
And children's mistake that they are afraid;
If he trembles, it means that he is no longer afraid:
And with that word she beheld the hunted boar;
Whose frothy mouth is all painted red,
Like milk and blood mixed together
A second fear spread through all his sinews,
What she runs madly, she doesn't know where:
That's how she runs, and now she doesn't want to go any further,
But back retreats to mark the boar for Murther.
A thousand spleens bear them in a thousand ways,
She enters the way she enters again;
Your more than haste is accompanied by delays,
How a Drunken Brain Works
Full of respect, but no respect at all
With all things in hand, without doing anything.
Here she finds a dog on a fly,
And asks the weary Caitiff for his master,
And there another lick of your wound,
Wounded Gainst gift the only sovereign plaster;
And here she finds another sad frown,
To whom she speaks, and he responds with howls.
When he stopped his clamoring noise,
Another mourner with a jaw, black and fierce,
Against the hail of heaven, your voice;
Another and another answer him,
beat your proud cocks to the ground below,
They shake their scratched ears and bleed as they walk.
See how the poor wonder of the world
In apparitions, signs and wonders,
What they have long looked upon with anxious eyes,
Fill them with dire prophecies;
So she breathes those sad sighs,
And, sighing again, Death calls.
"Much favored tyrant, ugly, skinny, skinny,
Love's ugly parting,' - thus she reproaches death, -
"Smiling ghost grim, worm, what do you mean
to smother the beauty and take your breath away,
Who, how he lived, his breath and his beauty perished
Sparkle in the rose, fragrance in the violet?
"If he's dead, oh no! It can't be,
When you see its beauty, you must slap it;
Oh yeah! he can; you don't have eyes to see
But hateful you find at random.
Your sign is old age, but your false arrow
Mistakes that target and divide a child's heart.
"If you had ordered him to be careful, then he would have said:
And when I heard that, its power had lost its power.
Fate will curse you for this blow;
They tell you to pick a weed, you pick a flower.
Love's golden arrow should have fled to him,
And not the ebony arrow of death to kill him.
"Are you drinking tears to provoke so much crying?
What's the use of a heavy groan?
Why did you throw yourself into eternal sleep?
Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see?
Now nature cares not for your deadly power
Since their best work is ruined by your severity."
Here oppressed, like one full of despair,
She lifted her eyelids, which stopped like locks.
The crystalline tide, shining from both cheeks
Fell into the sweet channel of her breast
But through the locks the silver rain breaks
And opens them again with its strong stroke.
Oh! how your eyes and tears lent and lent;
I saw your eyes in tears, tears in your eyes;
Both crystals where they saw each other's pain
hurt that friendly sighs tried to dry;
But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain,
Sighs dry her cheeks, tears wet her again.
Mutable passions incite your constant affliction,
As an effort, who should become his pain better;
Everyone entertains, every passion works like this,
May all present sorrow appear as chief,
But none are the best; then put them all together
How many clouds that advise in bad weather.
As she does so, she hears a holloa hunter in the distance;
A wet nurse's song did not please her son very much:
The dark fantasy she followed
This sound of hope struggles to dissipate;
For now you rejoice in revived joy,
And flatter her, it's the voice of Adonis.
When your tears started to turn the tide,
Be caught in your eyes like pearls in glass;
But sometimes a drop from the Orient falls by the wayside,
Making your cheeks melt, how scornfully it should pass
To wash the dirty face of the sloppy floor
That she's only drunk when she looks like she's drowning.
O unbelieving love! how strange it seems
Not believing and still very gullible;
Your well-being and distress are both extreme;
Despair and hope ridicule you:
The one improbably flatters you in thought,
In probable thoughts, the other kills you quickly.
Now she's unraveling the web she's spun
Adonis lives, and death is not to blame;
She didn't destroy him.
Now she adds honor to his hateful name;
They take you to the king of tombs and tombs for kings,
Imperious Supreme of all things mortal.
'No, no,' she said, 'dear Death, I was only joking;
But forgive me, I was kind of scared
When I met the boar, that cursed beast
Who does not know pity, but is still strict;
So soft shadow, - I must confess the truth -
I called you names for fear of the death of my beloved.
Not my fault: the boar teased my tongue;
Be treated with him, invisible general;
It is he, loathsome creature, who wronged you;
I just pretended that he is the author of my slander:
Pain has two languages: and never a woman,
I could rule both of them without the minds of ten women.
In the hope that Adonis lives,
His hurried suspect Sile softens;
And may your beauty best bloom
With death she humbly hints;
Tell him about trophies, statues, tombs; and stories
Its victories, its triumphs and its glories.
"O Jupiter!" she said, "how foolish I was
Having such a weak and stupid mind
To mourn his death, who lives and must not die
Until mutual fall of mortal kind;
For he is dead, beauty is dead with him,
And, dead beauty, the black chaos is coming again.
"Alas, alas, tender love! you are so afraid
Like one laden with treasures, surrounded by thieves
trifles, unnoticed by eyes or ears,
Your cowardly heart with false reasoning regrets.”
Already with this word she hears a happy horn
What does she skip, but that got lost late.
Like a hawk to bait, she flies away;
Grass does not bend, she steps on it very easily;
And in a hurry, unfortunately, spies
The conquest of the lazy boar in his beautiful delight;
What your eyes saw, how murdered with the look,
Like stars ashamed of the day they withdrew:
Or like the snail whose delicate horns are stung,
Shrinks backwards from pain in the conch cavity
And there, all suffocated, he sits in the shade,
Long after being afraid to crawl out again;
Well, seeing him bloodied, your eyes fled
In the deep dark braids of her head;
Where they establish their craft and their light
To eliminate your troublesome brain;
Who invites them to associate with the ugly night,
And never again hurt the heart with looks;
Who, like a confused king on his throne,
At your suggestion it gives a deadly groan,
With each trembling sub-subject;
Like when the wind is caught in the ground
Struggling for passage, the earth's foundation shakes,
Which, with cold terror, boggles people's minds.
This riot surprises every party so much
May your eyes leap from their dark beds once more;
And since it was open, it cast light against one's will
In the great wound the boar inflicted
On its soft side; whose common lily knows
His wound was soaked with purple tears:
There wasn't a flower, not a grass, weed, leaf or weed
But it stole his blood and seemed to bleed with it.
Poor Venus notices this solemn sympathy,
She hangs her head over one shoulder
Stupid to mistress, frantic to mistress;
She thinks he couldn't die, he's not dead:
Your voice is silent, your joints forget to bend,
His eyes are angry that they have been crying until now.
In her pain she looks so steady
That your dazzling vision makes the wound look like three;
And so she blames her mangled eye,
This makes more cuts where there shouldn't be a gap:
Your face looks double, each limb is doubled;
For often eye defects, the brain is disturbed.
"My tongue cannot express my sorrow for one
And yet,” she said, “behold two dead Adons!
My sighs are gone, my salty tears are gone,
My eyes become the fire, my heart guides it:
With light heavy heart, melt in the red fire of my eyes!
Then I'll die for drops of hot desire.
'Oh! Poor world, what a treasure you have lost!
What face remains alive worth looking at?
Whose language is the music now? what can you brag about
Of things that are long gone, or anything after that?
The flowers are sweet, their colors fresh and pure;
But the truly sweet beauty lived and died with him.
"From now on no creature will wear a cap or veil!
Neither the sun nor the wind will ever seek to kiss you:
As there is no mass to lose, there is no need to fear;
The sun despises you and the wind whistles at you:
But if Adonis lived, sun and sharp air
Lurk wants two thieves to rob his fair:
"And so he put on his hood,
The bright sun peeked under its rim;
The wind would blow it away and disappear
playing with her curls: then Adonis wept;
And precisely, out of pity for his tender years,
Both argued over who should wipe the tears first.
“To see your face, the lion walked
Behind a hedge because I wouldn't fear him;
To recreate yourself when you sang
The tiger would be tamed and listen to him gently;
Had he spoken, the wolf would have abandoned its prey,
And never frighten the foolish lamb that day.
"When he saw his shadow in the brook,
The fish spread their golden gills over him;
When it was over the birds had so much pleasure
That some sang, others on their beads
I would bring him blackberries and ripe red cherries
He fed her his vision, she fed him fruit.
"But that vile, fierce, sea urchin called boar,
Whose downcast eye still seeks a grave,
He never saw the fine uniform he wore;
Relive the conversation he gave:
If he saw your face then why would I know
He thought about kissing him and that's how he killed him.
“It is true, it is true; This is how Adonis was killed:
He rushed at the boar with his sharp spear,
Who has not yet sharpened his teeth,
But a kiss was thought to coax him there;
And the loving pig nestles in its flank
Sheath hadn't noticed the fang in his soft groin.
"If I had liked him, I must confess
I should have killed him first by kissing him;
But he is dead and never blessed
My youth with his; but I am cursed.”
With that she falls to the place where she was,
And smears her face with his clotted blood.
Sho looks at his lips and they are pale;
She takes his hand and it's cold;
She whispers a heavy story in your ear,
As if they heard the sad words she said;
She lifts the box lids that close her eyes
Where, see! two lamps, burnt out, lie in the dark;
Two glasses where she saw them
A thousand times, and now think no more;
They lost the virtue in which they later excelled,
And every beauty robbed of its effect:
"Wonderful time," she said, "this is my wickedness,
That since you're dead the day should still be bright.
"Since you died, behold! Here I prophesy
Sadness for love will follow next:
will be eagerly awaited
Find a sweet beginning but an unpleasant ending;
Never resolved the same but high or low;
That all the joy of love is not equal to its pain.
"It will be capricious, false and full of deceit,
Bud and be blown up in one breath;
The inferior and the superior poison on straw
With sweets that the truest vision should seduce:
The strongest body will make you the weakest,
Stun the wise and teach the fool to speak.
"It will be sparse and very hectic,
teach senility to act;
The bully staring must keep him quiet,
Pluck the rich, enrich the poor with treasures;
It must be crazy crazy and silly light,
Make the young old, the old become children.
“You will know where there is no reason to fear;
You will not fear where you should distrust most;
Will be merciful and very severe
It is most deceitful when it seems fairest;
Must be perverted where it shows the most
Give fear to velvet, courage to the coward.
"It will cause war and terrible events,
And sows discord between the son and the father;
Submissive and at the service of all the dissatisfied,
As a dry combustible substance to be burned:
Sith in his best death destroys my love,
Those who love most will not enjoy your love.”
It killed the boy lying next to her
It melted like steam at the sight of her
And in your blood lying on the floor
A purple flower sprouted, checkered in white;
He looks a lot like his pale cheeks and blood
Which lay in round drops on its white.
She bends her head to smell the newly sprouted flower,
Compare it with the breath of your Adonis;
And says that he will dwell in her bosom,
Since he himself is separated from her by death:
She drops the stick and appears in the gap
Green juice dripping that she compares to tears.
"Poor flower," said she, "that was the figure of her father,
Sweet version of a sweeter smelling dad
For every little sadness wet your eyes:
Growing into yourself was your wish
And so it shines; but know it's so good
Wither in my chest as in your blood.
“Here was your father's bed, here on my bosom;
You are a blood neighbor, and it is your right:
Consult! rest in this hollow cradle,
My fluttering heart will rock you day and night:
An hour cannot have a minute
Though I will not kiss the flower of my sweet love."
So tired of the world, it hurries
And harness their silver doves; with your quick help
Your lover, mounted, across the empty sky
In its light chariot it is hurried;
Head to Paphos where their queen is
It means isolating yourself and not being seen.