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Sir Thomas Wyatt

(1503-1542 / Kent / England)

Translation of Petrarch's Rima, Sonnet 134


I FIND no peace, and all my war is done;
I fear and hope; I burn and freeze like ice;
I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;
And nought I have, and all the world I seize on;
That looseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison
And holdeth me not, yet can I 'scape nowise;
Nor letteth me live nor die at my device, [by my own choice]
And yet of death it giveth none occasion.
Withouten eyen, I see; and without tongue I plain; [lament]
I desire to perish, and yet I ask health;
I love another, and thus I hate myself;
I feed me in sorrow, and laugh in all my pain;
Likewise displeaseth me both death and life;
And my delight is causer of this strife.

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

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Read poems about / on: hate, sorrow, war, death, peace, fear, hope, pain, wind, world, sonnet

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  • George Herquet (8/16/2009 1:16:00 PM)

    This poem resonates not only with the mental state of a lover, but also with the species of freedom offered by retirement to one who has always had to work. I know because I'm there! (Report) Reply

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