Ode to Cassandra

Poem by Pierre De Ronsard Collection The MélangesThemes LovePeriod 16th century

In giving you this portrait of mine,
Lady, I give you nothing,
For all the good that was ours,
Love made it yours from the day
You took me prisoner.
But just as a gardener
Sends gifts to the master
Of his rented garden, to be
Always deserving the favor
Of the heir whom he serves,
So all my gifts I address
To you, Cassandra, my mistress,
My horn of plenty, my all, and now
My portrait I am giving you:
For it is quite reasonable
That the likeness resembling
The body that languishes in care
For your love, should be yours as well.
But see how it seems to me
Thoughtful, sad, and pale all at once,
Portrayed in the same color
That love has portrayed its lord.
Would to God that Nature
Had made an opening in my heart,
So that you might have the power
To know me and to see me!
For it is nothing to see, Mistress,
The face that is deceitful,
And the brow often mocking,
It is everything to see the heart.
You would see in mine the constancy,
The faith, the love, the obedience,
And seeing them, perhaps also
You would have some mercy on him,
And on the anguish he endures:
Yes, even if you were harder
Than the Caucasian rocks
Or the cruel Aegean waves
That deafly do not hear the prayers
Of poor little fishing boats.

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-ode-to-cassandra-pierre-de-ronsard/