"living" is an iamb? Wouldn't it be funny to spend the day speaking trochees and spondees like iambs, wouldN'T it BE funNY to spend the day speaKING troCHEES and sponDEES like iAMBS.
I thought that odd, too. I've written sonnets, but none that I ever liked. I seem more of a villanelle sort of guy. And, while ordinary speech does tend toward the iambic, there wouldn't be those other feet if there weren't a place for them, right?
If 'tis not love, what is it feel I then? If 'tis, how strange a thing, sweet powers above! If love be kind, why does it fatal prove? If cruel, why so pleasing is the pain? If 'tis my will to love, why weep, why plain? If not my will, tears cannot love remove. O living death! O rapturous pang!—why, love! If I consent not, canst thou o'er me reign? If I consent, 'tis wrongfully I mourn: Thus on a stormy sea my bark is borne By adverse winds, and with rough tempest tost; Thus unenlightened, lost in error's maze, My blind opinion ever dubious strays; I'm froze by summer, scorched by winter's frost.
di Petrarca's :
S’amor non è, che dunque è quel ch’io sento? Ma s’egli è amor, perdio, che cosa et quale? Se bona, onde l’effecto aspro mortale? Se ria, onde sí dolce ogni tormento? 5S’a mia voglia ardo, onde ’l pianto e lamento? S’a mal mio grado, il lamentar che vale? O viva morte, o dilectoso male, come puoi tanto in me, s’io no ’l consento? Et s’io ’l consento, a gran torto mi doglio. 10Fra sí contrari vènti in frale barca mi trovo in alto mar senza governo, sí lieve di saver, d’error sí carca ch’i’ medesmo non so quel ch’io mi voglio, et tremo a mezza state, ardendo il verno
"living" is an iamb? Wouldn't it be funny to spend the day speaking trochees and spondees like iambs, wouldN'T it BE funNY to spend the day speaKING troCHEES and sponDEES like iAMBS.
ReplyDeleteI thought that odd, too. I've written sonnets, but none that I ever liked. I seem more of a villanelle sort of guy. And, while ordinary speech does tend toward the iambic, there wouldn't be those other feet if there weren't a place for them, right?
ReplyDeleteFrancesco Petrarch will be 717 next Tuesday.
ReplyDeleteHere's one of his, known as . .
The Contradictions of Love
If 'tis not love, what is it feel I then?
If 'tis, how strange a thing, sweet powers above!
If love be kind, why does it fatal prove?
If cruel, why so pleasing is the pain?
If 'tis my will to love, why weep, why plain?
If not my will, tears cannot love remove.
O living death! O rapturous pang!—why, love!
If I consent not, canst thou o'er me reign?
If I consent, 'tis wrongfully I mourn:
Thus on a stormy sea my bark is borne
By adverse winds, and with rough tempest tost;
Thus unenlightened, lost in error's maze,
My blind opinion ever dubious strays;
I'm froze by summer, scorched by winter's frost.
di Petrarca's :
S’amor non è, che dunque è quel ch’io sento?
Ma s’egli è amor, perdio, che cosa et quale?
Se bona, onde l’effecto aspro mortale?
Se ria, onde sí dolce ogni tormento?
5S’a mia voglia ardo, onde ’l pianto e lamento?
S’a mal mio grado, il lamentar che vale?
O viva morte, o dilectoso male,
come puoi tanto in me, s’io no ’l consento?
Et s’io ’l consento, a gran torto mi doglio.
10Fra sí contrari vènti in frale barca
mi trovo in alto mar senza governo,
sí lieve di saver, d’error sí carca
ch’i’ medesmo non so quel ch’io mi voglio,
et tremo a mezza state, ardendo il verno
~~~~~