Nederlandse sonnetten voor de Engelssprekende wereld (6)
Door Cornelis C. Schoneveld
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The west wind whispered, and the sultry summer bended
Towards the happy universe with blushing face;
The wood was freed of every dark grey winter trace;
When I with Rosalind to flimsy herbs attended:
This was accomplished not when there our feet just tended;
The flowers also made us our soft bed. Ah, what a grace!
Ah, in high feather knocked my burning heart apace!
It jumped from happiness, while down there she now ended.
We knew nor hate nor spite, nor cross resentment:
So Saturn’s age returned, but with the strong contentment
That in the Golden Age no love would hurt the lover
With torch, or bow and arrow, and, as I was told,Hubert Korneliszoon Poot (1689-1733)
The Orange daybreak from the East came sooner over
Than long before, in that first age of purest gold.