... lacrimae sanguis animae sunt ...

11 April 2010

A little bit of real poetry

I've been studying British and American literature for roughly 3 years in university. At first, I was very reluctant to let me get involved by it, because literature has never been one of my favourite subjects at all. But as time goes by, we inevitably get more sensitive to all the richness a good literary text can give us.

I'm quite far from being an ideal reader. I still find ways to avoid having to read most of the stuff I am told to. Even though, two writers have attracted me in a way I cannot explain. The American short-story writer Edgar Allan Poe has captivated me probably because of his gothic way of writing, and William Shakespeare has caught my attention simply for being Shakespeare.

Shakespeare lived quite long ago, when English language was still becoming what today we know as English language. So reading his works are always a nice challenge. You gain not only a very good and pleasurable reading, but also a wide vocabulary, lots of cultural information, not to mention the range of feelings his words can make you feel.

Today, I decided to post one of his sonnets. The eighteenth one is probably the best known of all his 154 sonnets. This one is basically about love (or a beloved one). And in order to make this post even more fun, I've added a musical version of this poem, so you can read and listen to it. This version was composed and recorded by David Gilmour (Pink Floyd's guitarrist and vocalist, and my favourite musician ever). I hope you enjoy it. :)


William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

posted by Renan C. Ferreira at 4:12:00 AM


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