Unquenchable thirst of love…
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© M. Godov, 2020
© International Union of writers, 2020
Mikhail Godov – member of the Union of writers of Moscow, member of the International Union of Writers, poet, sonnet writer, author of over 800 sonnets (10 wreath of sonnets included), and many poems of different genres published in a series of poetic books: «faces of love», «symphony of love», «Learning how to love», «Idols», «Love without the world is closely», «The house of soul», «I am talking to you about eternity» (series «modern and classics») and laureate of many international all-Russian literary contests and the winner of awards: International literary award «The gold quill of Russia 2008» (Moscow), award Belinski 2019, participant of Moscow International Book Fair (MIBF) 2019, author of songs and romances of different genres in Russian and German.
Since 2001 the poet lives in Nuremberg, Germany.
Preamble
This book is about an endless declaration of love to a wonderful woman in a classic sonnet style, in tradition, which goes all the way up to Francesco Petrarke, William Shakespeare, Ronsar, Bodler, Verlen and other famous masters of this genre.
The insatiable appetite for this love is that strong, that it could not be quenched, because since it is quenched, the lyrical hero glows with this love again and again.
The image of the beloved takes shape of all women, who made all the poets crazy, plebs and royals who fell in love with them, ready for any craziness and escapades for this love and at the same time converted to the only beloved, whom the poet gives the confession of love!
But words transferred by the time machine from far epochs by sophisticated ladies in crinolines and gallant gentlemen in j ackets and frills sewed of gold, forgotten and unfamiliar, are suddenly starting sounding modern, personal and heartfelt that the real feeling comes up that there is no threat by naphthalene smelling chests, that in our time that is far away from sentimentality there is only this way of confessing love, that Romeo and Julia, our contemporaries, live anywhere among us…
AND LIVE A DAY…
sonnet wreath book
This book is about many areas of life of humans and humanity from their origin up to now, the full range of feelings experienced by each of us, but its leitmotif is love in all its faces and hypostasis!
The «shell» that includes all life collisions and feelings is the favourite genre of the poet: a sonnet presented in its most difficult, superior and very rare mode of wreath of sonnets. The book includes five of them and three thematic cycle of sonnets, called by the author with regard to their number: «octet of sonnets». All this makes the book unique in its form and content, since there are no other precedents in the Russian and international poetry for poetic books that includes only wreaths of sonnets and belongs to the quill of only one poet (as the group of compendium), not to mention the extreme rarity of this genre. As far as the translation is concerned, from Russian, the native language of the poet, into English, the challenge for the translator is initially extremely difficult as the poetic language used by the author is very demanding and in a perfect form with a binding classic rhyming that makes the translation much more challenging. And even though the translator mostly managed it to translate the content of the poetic material with maximum effort, the elegant, peculiar and original form of the poetry retains only partly, despite this doesn't make the acquaintance with this book of the flamboyant, distinctive author, less attractive for the English-speaking reader.
Unquenchable thirst of love…
sonnet book
(Part one)
The name of rose
Sonnet 1
I wandered in the depth of garden alleysWent hat in hand to spirit of this placeAmong the statues, with their Gothic graceAmong the splash of multi-coloured wearingThe icon lamp of autumn there was lit.October ascended to its golden throneAnd yet the brightness wasn't goneCarried by winds, so boastful and so swift.In the array of asters, autumn flowersA thorn so sharply touched my heartThat dark red rose, that velvet sightAnd then my shield and helmet lost their powerThis pain I still envision; as if so behoves,Caused by the rose, which name is love.Sonnet 3
Don't take for granted plain and trivial words,They are just mask, when seen with more attention,Don't take for granted casual, simple wordsBehind them – all my pain, all my affectionDon't be confused with the indifferent tone,It's an attempt, although not trustworthy,To keep inside the loud, so unwilled moan…This pain I can't endure, you've left no mercy.To chat with you of trifles, little things,To be amusing and to burst in laughingTo tell you just of lovely little thingsMake a pretense: such moments are just nothingBut jokes…Take off the spell, I used to feel before,For I just can't keep silence anymore.Sonnet 15
Just touch my hand with hand of yours,And our hearts will feel this touching.I wish that we were so close,As only can be ones, who're loving.I wish that love could be for usThe breathing, hearing, and vision,And blood in our veins, that runs,The flesh and spirit of our living.Don't let it leave us, don't let away,Don't let it fade beyond a distance,I want to experience each grainOf love, each sad and happy instance.To share with Her fate and fame,Until the last anguish and pain.Sonnet 17
Simplicity we often take for nonsenseAnd we're ashamed to say the gentle wordsWe hide our souls, we're probably unconsciousOf this, afraid of souls confidingly unclosedIt's difficult for us to talk in styleOf Romeo and Juliette, without tension.We think since then the centuries has gone byIn other way life's writing its inventionsSo let it be, and I've no intent to argueYes. Different is the World, where we belongAnd my affection I am also hidingAshamed, as if Shakespeare's words were wrong,The storm of feeling takes my power of speech…Those tender words, extremely hard to reach.Sonnet 19
You are entirely unexpected,Your voice, your smile, your sudden gesture…You are entirely unexpectedLike sent to me occasionally, good letter.Like summer breath, like see and love itselfLike hope in the dark hour of despair,You're going and returning then,More cherished, as before you were.And all this takes my breath away,Of this white flame of fondness and much pain…Just fly, like poplar fluff in May,Not knowing of sadness and restraint…As miracle of life, you are so treasuredLife can't be captured, as it runs unmeasured!Sonnet 20
Don't harrow my soul, it's deepest partSo wrongfully, with sagebrush-bitter doubt,Don't it let be occasionally cut,This tenuous thread, by which our hearts are bound.Don't tear the ties that join us,For their living tissue's very fragile,For we shall not restore them at onceBy growing them, so real, so agile.In our hearts. Let envy, that old witchCast her aspersions, splattering the poison:No one but madman trust the rumors, whichAre spread around. Only love is worthyOf all your trust. Leave jealousy behindWith our love it cannot be combined!Sonnet 21
When hands are joined in embrace,And eyes are in the endless sightDon't let our words just stir that very brightAnd clear minute with their feeblenessThat minute when in one heartbeatTwo hearts will burst and fade again.So queer, it defies our trying to explainWords are but shadows, shifting, incomplete…When in the fire of self-immolationOne twinkle with eternity can melt,Though our language is so vain, but letYour voice is as a fascination:With pain, and self-forgetfulness, and mirthNo words one hears can be more inmost!Sonnet 24
Near the well I'm bowing downAnd touch it with my lips, so thirstyI'm drawing this uneven lineLike bridge between us, frail and frostyAnd step on it, for you I startEach step on rope above the cirque.I'm falling down in the spotlightI'll take all agony and hurt.Which can't be stronger, the unhiddenFact that I am alive and craving.This deadly risk I'm happily takingFor chance to see with you the EdenI'll pay the painful price of fallingFor twinkle of my freely soaring!Sonnet 10
That moment sky swung very slowApart. The ground slipped awayDon't leave me, love, now please don't goWe used to share shining days!Don't leave the distant dreams I sawThe songs and all the lines of mineDon't you desert me, love, don't go:The world with you is so divine!And only when blood in my veinsIs cold, and when my soul's in flight,Then you, my love, is free to leaveBut only at my last goodbyeThough even at the edge of beingLove will remain my clear daydream.Sonnet 86
Yes, you can act as you are willing,All of your faults I will forgive,But I will never let you leave,Though of goodbye you're now thinking,You'll turn with this our passion in close linkingBy testing its impedance with no fright.Like fierce wind blow in the depth of nightWill set the fire glowing and twinkling,As thirst becomes extreme and so endless,When for some hours we let it last,Thus our affection will not pass,For flame of mine is so quenchlessThe heart just can't agree and can't surrenderTo fate, when love's so vivid and so tender.Sonnet 87
King in exile remains a king,This is remembered by the crowd and courtBut beggars, even with the golden ringDeserve the fortune of the wailsome sortThe fortune's folly is a sound reasonBut our life is constantly in changeHere reigns and rules His Majesty The ChanceAbove all transient, perishable, fleeting.All comes to end: the fame and honourWill turn to nothing francs, pounds, doubloonsThe currency quite solid is the onlyThe lovers' coins have a pretty tune,It throws you down, then you're high above,That golden coin with the name of Love!Sonnet 67
I search for a pin in stake of hayI search for love in disregard,And under foam search for champagneAnd nightingale beyond green buds,The naked body under clothesAnd essence hidden by the glareA little hope among despairAnd rhymes arranged in even rowsI search for violet in the graveyardFind for my building ground so charred,Encounters, brighter, then goodbyesI crave for liberty and spellI search for a pin in stake of hayI search for love in disregard.Sonnet 75
I long for passion to be sharedAnd still I suffer all this thirstIt's so insatiable. I dareTo reach love's temple, so inmostPray to your eyes, your silhouetteAnd deepest secret of the wameI pray as restlessly as thatNaivety's in all I say.I pray insanely, without measureI'm whispering to you each sentence.Love is the only creed I treasure —I tell in worship and entrancement!I long to melt with you in itSo our prayer'll be complete.Sonnet 89
A pilgrim, philosopher, free-liver and poetEnamored of ladies and art,I've been living here forever, I know it,Though now life of mine seems to start.This world is so cruel, so wicked and fierce,Where sweat with the blood flows down.But God's in my heart, that is known to exist,And people would name it Love.Yes, if not for it, what's the reason for meTo enter this world, to be born?!The cover of treachery, scary to seeWas not meant by me to be worn.No, life is a miracle, growing aboveThe blood and the tears – the sprouts of love!Sonnet 94
Here are again love's traps and tricksPredicting them is not so easy.Which stranger's face can love depict:Of meretrix or the Mona Lisa?And even if you're duke of GuiseEven if you're as smart as a whipThen all the same the lovely whimsYou will fulfill and act likewise:Along the ledge you'll go, so pleasingAnd sign so tender serenades,And kiss her footprints and her shadeIn Paris, London, or in Piza…Amour, you'll finally take your cropLove is the thing you can't fend off.Sonnet 105
Love and music
I'm finally given to my loveAs I am given to the tuneAnd I am yielding to the tune.As I am yielding to my love,For love and melody in me —Integrally they live and soundLike face so dear that I foundLike fervent voice, so close as can be…They still resound in my soulLike lust for life and lust for happinessLike first oblation in your presenceBut if sounds fade, so far and smallThen soul of mine will be desertedLike empty stage with went down curtain…Sonnet 111
Each thing's subject to rhythm returningThe clothes, tune and poet's linesIf not for them, much harder could be lifeLike that of warrior with no tunicThe bottle of wine and the ale barrelYou cannot fill beyond the brim,By winter fall the leaves of sallowAnd even Edem's too small for EveNow all the heirs of ProcrustesWould like to put me in the pencil caseMy bones they're breaking, very crustyBut only soul they cannot chase.It is like aeon, all embracingBut with no love it has no basing!Sonnet 113
Things have their cost, it's knownIn dollars, euros, cheques and cash.Thing have become so wiery, monotone,The ghost of lucre is turning all to ashI guess that is no place for bargain,Where hate and envy're mixed with greed.For me such life is very small and tangledI'm used to other count, another creed.And casting off the profits of transactionWhich boil in one's soul and bloodI never buy the fame or admiration,My Lord, such fate can be the true attraction:To pay for love with coins of affection!Sonnet 116
Yes, beauty is so multi-faced,So multifold and so diverseSo evidently evanescent,Ingenious and so plainThe pattern of the maple leaveAnd ornament on crystal goblet… —The soul was craving for each droplet,And were yearning the eyes and lips.In the daylight or dream so fluidDescended slowly from the skiesThe earthborn women, said so lucid:Just touch my lips with lips of yoursIn love all beauty now occurs!Sonnet 118
The universe of Love to bearIsn't easy for the most of us.It's easier with Gavroche's glairTo keep on go wearing the junksBut even if the dignity you showCan't cover even your dress suitYou soul, which is almost gone,Bereft of love your beggar's rout!All your attempt are good for nothingAnd all your luck is just in vainThe circle of life where you keep runningWhere all you courage's senseless strainBut sense in each thing can be foundWhile entering love's endless current!Sonnet 119
I pray to smoke-blue bush of lilacI pray to apple-tree in bloomI worship Lord's ingenious findingsAnd glorify the beauty's grove.The beauty, clear and pristineThat tempts us through the centuriesLike lady's precious memoryLike lovely eyelids flickeringLike Rose's scent so fragrant.Oh, flight of butterfly, so frail!For me you always will be sacredSoul always looks for beauty's trailThe whole world it can roll downBut love is still its only crown!Sonnet 120
The harvest time is now near…Ripe fruit are hanging from the treeIn hands of your entirely givingThemselves, so generous, as can be.With yellow wax shine garden pears.And apples're burning like the flame.They turn to me and soul's embarrassed,They now have so much to tellAbout something long-awaiting,About something so concealed,About the endless, never fadingAbout life, about myself…I fell the rhythm of universeAnd the love's essence so inmost…Sonnet 121
The beauty has become my faith:My pray to Her is endless.It is for Her I'll put on chainsAnd step on pilgrim's pathIt's before Her on my knees I'll bowAt Her virtuous holy things,Where the clearest water's falling downWith sagebrush like honey, bitter-sweet,Where lilies gleam so white, so far away,The haystacks smell so fineYes, beauty is my faithAnd the Woman is divine!All worship is entirely for her,None kind of beauty is inmost that more!Sonnet 126
This is secret, so luring and burningThis is marvelous centuple ovalThis is tender and ardent smile,Which, due to fate's inconceivable turningsTempting us with the lust that still lastsCuring us as a goblet of balmIn the soul tender flowing chantThe concord of the skies consonance:Carefully drafted, sculpted and carvedSome greatest artist, with true inspirationAll this heavenly grace incarnationIn each women I hoped to findAll this grace for entire immersionIn Love's light, in my inner devotion!Sonet 130
From lovely lips reproach's not a reproachAlthough it hurts more painfully and deeper.But bitter words for you I will not searchAnd hit the target with my shot so meanly.Hard feelings will not shade my eyes.And anger won't take unawares my mind.My heart won't be deceived with tone hostileWon't quench in soul the love song sound.I used to be much easier to hurtBut since that time I things have changed a lotGod give the blessing for the ones in loveAnd teach them to forgive, and seek forgiveness!For penance isn't derogation, is this?Thus faith expects the blessing from above…Sonnet 133
To feel eventually love's feverIn all your blood, in all your cells,So, that you soul's entirely speechlessAnd take the life as gift you can't expelTo give yourself completely in responseLike Romeo and Juliette, every instantTrouveres, poets and you, minstrels!Your love was strong without reposeShakespeare, Ronsard, Petrarka, DanteHow wonderfully love was elegizedLike Rafael's' divine and pure artTalent of Love, so high and so sacredOh, Lord, just give me such a blessingIn love with love to bring Her my confessing!Sonnet 132
Sonnet of power
And here I see the large tenth-bared jaw…Oh, how such a vision is disgustingHere's a though, inside my mind it growsThat «power» is the predator, so lusty.When torturing of victims, strength and power,Still hiding beast's appearance under guiseIt, even if at scandalous expiryIt keeps on stealing, keeps on telling lies.And there is no darker deed than thisAnd there is the greatest of misfortunesMore scary than the virus, is the greedOf power, in its uncontrolled disorder.The power rests on mud and bloodAnd only power of loveI praise…Sonnet 135
The theme of love and jealousy is old:It goes back to Adam and Eve.In every home this drama is perceived.And victims grind by these millstones…The jealous one himself is cause of tormentAnd even crown will not keep him stillDesdemona with no guilt was killed,Though she was faithful to the great extent.She closes the vicious circle of the loveHer name is written as the love's true sister.But as her brother iron there glistered —So many hands that love has stained with blood!But no, of love I have another vision:The one I love, I trust with no excision!Sonnet 136
Love can't be jealous, as the passion can:The passions puts the hidden trapsTo which fall even those experiencedWith words of Iago, don't lie, don't condemn!Oh jealousy, you choose your prey from usAnd our hearts are painful and so hurt,You play the drum in rage, but now stop,Don't hurt the feeling by absurd mistrustThe passion is the despot, so mercilessNo tyranny, which can be more waywardBut love is balm, the therapy and wardOf all the soul's wounds, of all the turbulence,The Love is graceful, kind, but the most upheavalBrings jealousy, much envy and much evil.Sonnet 137
The love is free, such is its essenceWhen flows, even stones break:The wall destroys and the defences:No shield is left for me to take!I wanted to erase her featuresAnd to forget… But then my heartWill ache and will cry out loudNostalgia, the ghostly creature!I can't find help in the oblivion,By which I tried (while it was trifle)To hide the feeling, to forget… —But I give up and here's my chest:Well. Love is just a worthy rivalTo end my life, so sad, so trivial.Sonnet 138
Oh, can my affection be a sinWhen deep in love I lose myselfNo sinner is who duff and dumbWho cannot love and cannot feelWho laughs at highest words of loveWho dear lady's eyes dislikesAnd lips of hers is not enjoyingWho doesn't know the love's follyThat one just lives in vain his life.And I recall now and againThe Romeo and Juliette storyThese children's love was so involvingAnd even death had brought them fameI drink a toast to loving soulsIndifference is the greatest fault…Sonnet 139
Yes. Cupid shoots so randomly, but sureDefeating, dazzling everyone,Love potion's easy to be done:For youngster and for someone mature,For nun, for gigolo, no matterThey all will suffer passion's pricksBut the love's suit… Here's nothing better:And haute couture's extremely cheap!Cupid, your genre is operetta.You shoot the movies bright and splendid,You are the favourite of all ladies:Life's grey with you, and I don't flatter!And I'm subject to passion tooI fell in love, so now I do…Sonnet 144
To you, oh, ladies, whom I lovedAll songs and sonnets're dedicatedYou're muses who inspire all createdAnd Lord had sent me blessing from above.Yes, I was dumb, then fire of affectionRevoked the answer in my soulSo Earth before the dawn, so still, it is just waitingBut with the first ray clamour will unrollSince then the Love's my genius and judgeAnd beauty is my highest mentorAnd soul of mine, the humble shelterIs filled with feeling, I can't hide,I sing the praise, but not in vainEach line is warmed with loving flame!Sonnet 145
Oh, that's indeed is a kind of tortureThe bow touches vibrant chords…The violinist's young, but each accordResounds like a voice of fortune.And gently violin surrendersAnd he is ardent, as a hunAnd wise, just like the runes creator.Soul, like a snail, went to the sunAnd opens up towards the musicAnd, trembles like a singing violin,The spell of music make her singShe soared, clear and illusiveIn glowing worlds, so high aboveWhen filled with miracle of love…Sonnet 146
These autumn flowers in vase:Bright asters, roses, bunch of cranesbill…I give respect to nature thus —Which joins forms and author's will.I make attempt in every phraseTo surface facets so precise,That filigree would not enticeWon't be deceptive as the strase.So that like diamond, perfect sense,Was clear and concise, not flabby,And sacred as the walls of abbey…Oh Lord, give me talent and such strengthTo vent the soul enchanted cry!So lucid to all passing by…Sonnet 148
I crave to know all people as the dearest onesTo realize the events inner wheelsTo see effect and reason, evident and clear:I want to be, more sapient and wise.Absurd's the monster, scariest of all!…And due to it men draw their swords —Because of it all funeral and grief,And people are more fierce the beasts!And cry of woe is now in vain,No word can ever reach their ears:Cause now's deafness for our souls to tear!Misunderstanding is the endless chain…And I grew week before the locked front door…But love had found the key so long ago!Sonnet 149
There's time for everything and turn:And summer follows the spring's route,As night's successor, comes the dawnAnd the ovary becomes the fruit.The clocks tick on, and thus each moment,Dictates us sequence of the lines.And words are linked within the sonnet.And generations grow and die.Haste is the ghostly, bad mistakeAnd lingering is just a guilt.And every failure and success:As a pirouette on sandy brinkBut breaking all the terms and frames,Love definitely will come in May!Sonnet 150
Love is a battle without mercyWithout tears of compassion.Intrigues, snaring, fire of passion… —Through all the times, in all the verses.During the starry sleepless nights,The serenades are sung for Her.But under cloak the blade does blurBlood flows as scarlet as the wine.The Love, the treachery's strong allyAnd such al luring as naiadsSeduces us to escapadesAnd passion's cup becomes so dryWith no regard to young and senior…But happy is the one, who did surrender!