Spring has not so many flowers,
Autumn so many ripe grapes,
Summer so many parched heats,
Winter so many cold frosts,
Nor the sea so many fish,
Nor the Beauce so many harvests,
Nor Brittany so many sands,
Nor Auvergne so many fountains,
Nor the night so many bright torches,
Nor the forests so many branches,
As I bear in my heart, my mistress,
For you of pain and sorrow.
Pierre de Ronsard
Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.
Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-song-pierre-de-ronsard/
