In celebration of William Shakespeare Birthday

I have always said that I was born 400 to 500 years too late.  I truly think that I should have been born sometime between 1447 and 1547 and not 1947.  Many times I feel I don’t belong in this time and that is one of the reason why I admire Cervantes, Shakespeare and many other people from that time period so much.   

William Shakespeare birthday was celebrated this week. Although his birth date has been set at April 23, 1564.  His actual birthday was not known, but it was known that he was baptized on April 26, 1564.  I think the birthday date was chosen as the 23rd because he died on the 23rd of April, 1616 – the same day that Miguel de Cervantes died.  What a coincidence.

I love all of Shakespeare’s works and specially his sonnets, and specially love the form of the Shakespearean sonnet.  Although most of his 154 sonnets (126) were most likely written to or about a male friend (or friends) of his, historians generally agree that he was not a gay man (apparently, it was considered proper at that time for men to admire and praise their male friends).  One of his sonnets, considered as a “great love” poem, number 18, begins:  “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?” was possibly written about his male friend and not a lady.  My favorite sonnet however, and the one that tells me he was not gay, is number 130 where he writes about his mistress (his lover); a woman of plain looks, wiry hair, her skin color is grayish, her words are not music to his ears but he loves to hear he talk, and her breath is not at all like perfume (probably had bad breath after drinking ale all night with him).  But yet he is in love with this plain woman.  Shakespeare probably wrote this as a parody of all the love poem that were floating around during that time period, but it tells me that he was not an aloof noble trying to impress someone, he and his lover were simple common people.  Here is the text of sonnet 130:

Sonnet 130

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

To celebrate his birthday I thought I try to write a sonnet in the style that he wrote.  How difficult can it be to write a sonnet?  As it turns out, without the proper inspiration – difficult.  However, with my father being ill 88 years of age, I see my potential future health in his and the inspiration for my first sonnet. 

Sonnet 1:  The Cycle of Life

We want to live a long and fruitful life.
Without the illnesses that age may bring.
To live each day without the daily strife
And always stay in life’s eternal Spring.
Youth with endless quest and thirst for knowledge,
With body prime in health to challenge life.
The senses at their peak for truth they forage.
Our wanton immortality is rife
Awareness hits with need to procreate,
Plant our roots and build a reputation.
Defend our home and our true wealth create,
And to reap the fruits of our creation.
But our mortality becomes too clear.
Our grip on life, once powerful, is sere.

Well, not as elegant as Shakespeare, but he had a lot more practice and better inspiration!