June
Friday 12 February 2010 photo 2/2
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Sonnet 29, William Shakespeare
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee – and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Ja, det här känner jag igen mig i. Fantastiskt känsla faktiskt. (Både att känna igen sig i en fyra hundra år gammal dikt och det som känns igen.) Och som illustration av det har vi en soldränkt Artemisia absinthia, för den påminner mig om... lycka...
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Många fina skrev han.
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