stanza of Piere de Ronsard's Sonnet for Helene:
"Quand vous serez bien vieille, au soir, à la chandelle,
Assise auprès du feu, dévidant et filant,
Direz, chantant mes vers, en vous émerveillant :
Ronsard me célébrait du temps que j'étais belle."
Translation:
"When you are very old, at evening, by the fire,
spinning wool by candlelight and winding it
in skeins, you will say in wonderment as you recite
my lines: "Ronsard admired me in the days when I was
young and beautiful."
And as I re-read that stanza, and of course affix
a 2007 attitude to something written by a 16th Century
poet, ago, I can't help but get a smidge indignant
about the connection of being very old and wool-work.
But I do find it interesting out of all the stanzas to be
assigned to commit to memory, that THIS stanza should
be mine, given the chance my fiber addiction was dormant
at the time I was given this to remember.
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