So is it not with me as with that muse,
Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heaven it self for ornament doth use
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse,
Making a couplement of proud compare
With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems,
With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare
That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.
O, let me, true in love, but truly write,
And then, believe me, my love is as fair
As any mother's child, though not so bright
As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air.
Let them say more that like of hearsay well;
I will not praise that purpose not to sell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
.. It is more natural to suppose that the sonnets were written as a response to or as a contribution to the easy discussions of a group of young men, some of whom might have enjoyed a privileged position in relation to the cynosure of the group, the young nobleman who has been encouraged in the previous sonnets to repair his house (i.e. to marry and have children) . The poetic criticism levelled here might apply to many poets, Petrarch, Sydney, Daniel, even Shakespeare himself (although we should not assume that it will be a poet well known to our anthologies) . It is a clever way of turning the tables on conventional poetry, at the same time showing that one's own poems are just as inventive. It also has the more serious motive of investigating the nature of love - 'What is it that makes my loved one so special, so exalted in my eyes above the conventional norms of beauty. What is it that makes him so supremely himself? '