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Pace non trovo, e non ò da far guerra; E temo e spero, ed ardo, e son un ghiaccio;

Pace non trovo, e non ò da far guerra; E temo e spero, ed ardo, e son un ghiaccio; E volo sopra ‘l cielo, e giaccio in terra; E nulla stringo, e tutto il mondo abbraccio. Tal m’à in prigion che non m’apre né serra, Né per suo mi ritèn né scioglie il laccio;

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Pace non trovo, e non ò da far guerra; E temo e spero, ed ardo, e son un ghiaccio;

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  1. Pace non trovo, e non ò da far guerra; E temo e spero, ed ardo, e son un ghiaccio; E volo sopra ‘l cielo, e giaccio in terra; E nulla stringo, e tutto il mondo abbraccio. Tal m’à in prigion che non m’apre né serra, Né per suo mi ritèn né scioglie il laccio; E non m’ancide Amore e non mi sferra, Né mi vuol vivo né mi trae d’impaccio. Veggio senz’occhi; e non ho lingua, e grido; E bramo di perire, e cheggio aita; Ed ò in odio me stesso ed amo altrui: Pascomi di dolor; piangendo rido; Egualmente mi spiace morte e vita. In questo stato son, Donna, per vui. Sonnet CXXXIV I find no peace and all my war is done; a I fear and hope, I burn and freeze like ice; b I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise, b And naught I have and all the world I seize on; a That looseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison a And holdeth me not yet can I scape nowise; b Nor letteth me live nor die at my devise, b And yet of death it giveth none occasion. a Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain; c I desire to perish, and yet I ask health; d I love another, and thus I hate myself; d I feed me in sorrow, and laugh in all my pain. c Likewise displeaseth me both death and life, e And my delight is causer of this strife. e Sir Thomas Wyatt THE SONNETThe sonnet came from Italy, where it had been experimented by Dante and Petrarch, whose Canzoniere had become the model for all European renaissance poets.It is the poetry of longing, of eternal beauty and the perfect form; and it’s the lady who embodies these characteristics.It’s the poetry of paradoxes: he longs for the lady’s love, yet he doesn’t wish her to surrender.

  2. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? aThou art more lovely and more temperate: b Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, aAnd summer's lease hath all too short a date: bSometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, cAnd often is his gold complexion dimm'd; dAnd every fair from fair sometime declines, cBy chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; dBut thy eternal summer shall not fade eNor lose possession of that fair thou owest; fNor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, eWhen in eternal lines to time thou growest: fSo long as men can breathe or eyes can see, gSo long lives this, and this gives life to thee. g Sonnet XVIII

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