Wretched Winter Nights, Poem by Pierre de Ronsard

Poem by Pierre De Ronsard Collection Last Verses (Ronsard)Period 16th century

Wretched winter nights, nights born of Cocytus,
That the earth brought forth, sisters of Enceladus,
Serpents of Alecto, and fury of furies,
Do not come near my bed, or else turn faster.

What is the sun doing so long in Amphitrite’s lap?
Rise up, I languish, overwhelmed with sorrows,
But to be unable to sleep is truly of my misfortunes
The greatest, which grieves and vexes my life.

Sixteen hours at least I die with open eyes,
Turning myself, twisting myself right and crosswise,
On one side, on the other, I storm, I cry,

Restless, I cannot stay in one place,
I call the day in vain, and death I beseech,
But she plays deaf, and will not come.

Pierre de Ronsard

Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.

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