translation of a famous sonnet by Pierre de Ronsard (1524-1585) <br />from Sonnets for Hélène <br /> <br />When you are very old, at evening, by the fire, <br />spinning wool by candlelight and winding it in skeins, <br />you will say in wonderment as you recite my lines: <br />'Ronsard admired me in the days when I was fair.' <br /> <br />Then not one of your servants dozing gently there <br />hearing my name's cadence break through your low repines <br />but will start into wakefulness out of her dreams <br />and bless your name - immortalised by my desire. <br /> <br />I'll be underneath the ground, and a boneless shade <br />taking my long rest in the scented myrtle-glade, <br />and you'll be an old woman, nodding towards life's close, <br /> <br />regretting my love, and regretting your disdain. <br />Heed me, and live for now: this time won't come again. <br />Come, pluck now - today - life's so quickly-fading rose. <br /> <br />(translation by Anthony Weir)<br /><br />Anthony Weir<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-you-are-very-old/
