22/11/2013
William Shakespeare's Sonnet 94
William Shakespeare's Sonnet 94
One of my very dear friend has made me to muse once again about this sonnet. I had interpreted it in my own way when I was doing my under-graduation in 'Advance English- Creative Writing' at Trinity College, Cambridge. I reminisced about my views and want to stand by them even now. I present here this enigmatic sonnet and my interpretation of it.
Shakespeare's sonnet 94
They that have power to hurt, and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow;
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces,
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others, but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself, it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.
This is often thought to be the most enigmatic of the Sonnets.
In the past it was presented as the type and model of a detached observation on human nature, but nowadays greater emphasis is placed on setting it in the context of the surrounding sonnets, 87-96, in which the youth is portrayed as potentially fickle and ready to abandon the pledges he has made, a beauteous flower, but corrupted at the core.
Most of such interpretations are in the context of the whole sonnet-sequence and address to the poet's relationship with the 'young lad' at the center of these sonnets. The general tone of these interpretations is that the poet is warning his dear young lord to use his divine gifts 'fruitfully'( in line of advice given in the first group of 17 sonnets::'So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon,/Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son.'[sonnet7]). Other wise, he will be like that 'sweet lily' which turns sour because of living for itself and then festers to smell far worse than weeds.
I beg to differ from this line of interpretations. In my opinion, here Shakespeare is presenting to us a very gifted and powerful person.
Let us read this sonnet completely. We'll just stop every few lines to check our understanding,
Let's start!
"They that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,"
What does this mean? It appears to be talking about people who have power over others, power that could be harmful. The second line implies that those in power do not exercise it to hurt others, even though they could and even though they look tough on the outside.
"Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow,"
These people of power are able to influence others but themselves are not easily moved, do not display their feelings, and do not respond quickly to temptation.
"They rightly do inherit heaven's graces.
And husband nature's riches from expense;"
These people inherit grace from heaven, and are able to grow riches from the expense of energy required to remain uninfluenced and true to their values.
"They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence."
These people own their actions and control them. Other people, who do not, are only "stewards" (caretakers) of their emotions, not owners of them.
"The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die,"
Now comes the switch in the images. The poet now talks not about people, but rather nature. A flower during summer smells sweet, but is not sweet to itself (the flower is indifferent to its own sweet smell.) The flower knows that when itis "born" , it will certainly "die."
"But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:"
The flower is easily made sick, corrupted,but the weed, an ugly, stinky flower, will outlast it, since the 'evil' or 'vile' has a long life.
"For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds."
This is a great last line. Something that starts out as beautiful on the outside has a far greater penalty when it doesn't live up to expectations. The dead flower will stink worse than the dead weed. What he seems to be saying is that even if something appears to be beautiful and righteous on the outside, because of its actions or inactions you may find it is far worse than something that is not so "flashy" in its actions.
How does this tie in with the first image? The powerful individual is not flashy at all. He is stoic. You cannot read him by his face, which is grim and cold. It is by his actions that you know he is a man in "grace." He does not do good to get attention or for appearances.
But then he starts using his power for selfish purpose, like taking revenge upon those who have hurt him in some way or the other in order just to teach them a lesson. He never intends harming them permanently. Then, when such act is done, realization dawns upon him of his folly and his original 'merciful' nature is re-awakened and he regrets his action. He reminds himself,
"For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds."
The flower looks and smells beautiful, but because of its actions it ends up stinking.
In my opinion,Shakespeare was then envisaging a just 'ruler'. He had seen the tyrannical rule of Queen Elizabeth and then the most passive rule of King James I.This sonnet must have been ringing in his mind for long until it led him to create 'Prospero'. Yes, in my opinion this man is 'Prospero', the protagonist of 'the Tempest' .He is conscious of his powers, his superiority, untinged by arrogance, genial scorn for the mean and the base (like Caliban), and basic mercifulness into which, sadly, contempt has entered to a large extent, leading him to become revengeful(fester). This turns his sweetness of serenity excluding passionate affection while admitting tenderness, intellect overtopping morality but in no way perverting it.
On realizing how he has become 'festered', he comes to conclusion that 'the rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.'He then decides to abjure his 'rough magic', break his magical staff and bury it very deep and drown his book of magic.
The whole aim of this sonnet is to tell everyone of us to use whatever gifts we have in noble ways, otherwise we will be as useless and despisable as 'festered lilies'.
-Portia Buton
One of my very dear friend has made me to muse once again about this sonnet. I had interpreted it in my own way when I was doing my under-graduation in 'Advance English- Creative Writing' at Trinity College, Cambridge. I reminisced about my views and want to stand by them even now. I present here this enigmatic sonnet and my interpretation of it.
Shakespeare's sonnet 94
They that have power to hurt, and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow;
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces,
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others, but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself, it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.
This is often thought to be the most enigmatic of the Sonnets.
In the past it was presented as the type and model of a detached observation on human nature, but nowadays greater emphasis is placed on setting it in the context of the surrounding sonnets, 87-96, in which the youth is portrayed as potentially fickle and ready to abandon the pledges he has made, a beauteous flower, but corrupted at the core.
Most of such interpretations are in the context of the whole sonnet-sequence and address to the poet's relationship with the 'young lad' at the center of these sonnets. The general tone of these interpretations is that the poet is warning his dear young lord to use his divine gifts 'fruitfully'( in line of advice given in the first group of 17 sonnets::'So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon,/Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son.'[sonnet7]). Other wise, he will be like that 'sweet lily' which turns sour because of living for itself and then festers to smell far worse than weeds.
I beg to differ from this line of interpretations. In my opinion, here Shakespeare is presenting to us a very gifted and powerful person.
Let us read this sonnet completely. We'll just stop every few lines to check our understanding,
Let's start!
"They that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,"
What does this mean? It appears to be talking about people who have power over others, power that could be harmful. The second line implies that those in power do not exercise it to hurt others, even though they could and even though they look tough on the outside.
"Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow,"
These people of power are able to influence others but themselves are not easily moved, do not display their feelings, and do not respond quickly to temptation.
"They rightly do inherit heaven's graces.
And husband nature's riches from expense;"
These people inherit grace from heaven, and are able to grow riches from the expense of energy required to remain uninfluenced and true to their values.
"They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence."
These people own their actions and control them. Other people, who do not, are only "stewards" (caretakers) of their emotions, not owners of them.
"The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die,"
Now comes the switch in the images. The poet now talks not about people, but rather nature. A flower during summer smells sweet, but is not sweet to itself (the flower is indifferent to its own sweet smell.) The flower knows that when itis "born" , it will certainly "die."
"But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:"
The flower is easily made sick, corrupted,but the weed, an ugly, stinky flower, will outlast it, since the 'evil' or 'vile' has a long life.
"For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds."
This is a great last line. Something that starts out as beautiful on the outside has a far greater penalty when it doesn't live up to expectations. The dead flower will stink worse than the dead weed. What he seems to be saying is that even if something appears to be beautiful and righteous on the outside, because of its actions or inactions you may find it is far worse than something that is not so "flashy" in its actions.
How does this tie in with the first image? The powerful individual is not flashy at all. He is stoic. You cannot read him by his face, which is grim and cold. It is by his actions that you know he is a man in "grace." He does not do good to get attention or for appearances.
But then he starts using his power for selfish purpose, like taking revenge upon those who have hurt him in some way or the other in order just to teach them a lesson. He never intends harming them permanently. Then, when such act is done, realization dawns upon him of his folly and his original 'merciful' nature is re-awakened and he regrets his action. He reminds himself,
"For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds."
The flower looks and smells beautiful, but because of its actions it ends up stinking.
In my opinion,Shakespeare was then envisaging a just 'ruler'. He had seen the tyrannical rule of Queen Elizabeth and then the most passive rule of King James I.This sonnet must have been ringing in his mind for long until it led him to create 'Prospero'. Yes, in my opinion this man is 'Prospero', the protagonist of 'the Tempest' .He is conscious of his powers, his superiority, untinged by arrogance, genial scorn for the mean and the base (like Caliban), and basic mercifulness into which, sadly, contempt has entered to a large extent, leading him to become revengeful(fester). This turns his sweetness of serenity excluding passionate affection while admitting tenderness, intellect overtopping morality but in no way perverting it.
On realizing how he has become 'festered', he comes to conclusion that 'the rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.'He then decides to abjure his 'rough magic', break his magical staff and bury it very deep and drown his book of magic.
The whole aim of this sonnet is to tell everyone of us to use whatever gifts we have in noble ways, otherwise we will be as useless and despisable as 'festered lilies'.
-Portia Buton
21/11/2013
15/11/2013
WHEN IN LOVE
When In Love....
I was then having a strange urge for a change. I couldn't name it, but just felt its intensity........I wondered where this would take me. This urge is close to anticipation of a climax. It built on in waves...stronger and stronger. Would I ride on its waves? Would I let it sweep me away? Would I be on the crest of the waves? Would I let it pass? I did not know. I wanted to know.
In the past,my 'teen' days, which I cherish, whenever I wanted a change I used to run to the hairdresser. A change of hair cut or hair style would trap me into thinking of it as a change I wanted. Now I laugh at the thought of it. Pictures of myself keep reminding me how self - deceiving I was. An urge for change rooted into most intimate thoughts will not go away with a new hair-cut or new cloths or a new friend.
As I sip my morning cup of coffee, I realize that there is actually no need for change. It's my inner self which screams for freedom. Freedom from conventions, freedom from self-inflicted stereotypes, freedom from what others want me to have/want. When I am at peace with myself, there is no such urge. I am filled with creative flows, I am generous, I am happy. Have I forgotten the golden rules of inner peace? - 'Be grateful, see the beauty in everything around me, enjoy it, even if it's a fallen leaf! Breathe slowly, smile, laugh, dream with eyes wide open, let the warmth of love heal your heart!'etc...
Then I witnessed huge changes happening in one of my dearest friend Autumn Eliza's life. I know her for over 15 years now. She grew up with me and we have become soul-sisters. We both love art, artists, western classical music, and poetry.We even studied painting together because she wanted to study something with me since she is younger by two years to me, the fact she hates the most.But then 'love' happened to her and she embraced its enormous life transforming change over her cozy and secure life, rebelling against her parents.While witnessing her struggle to break away from what she thought as shackles and running towards an uncertain dream, I realized every change she made towards her inner self was gradual, painful at times but in a beautiful, creative way. She is now at peace. She has easily adjusted herself from a lavish living-style in London to a much simpler style in Paris with her beau. She is content in just one bedroom apartment there! I see it in her eyes, her gestures, her smile. Will she want to radically change anything now? I looked for an answer in her recent paintings, and I was satisfied to see that she had retained her merriness, her basic characteristic and needs no more change. She has anchored in a safe harbor, filled with love. And as for myself, I understood what was that strange urge. It was love calling me! I was surprised to see that my life is playing out my dear friend's life-story of embracing love over anything else, though luckily for me I did not need to rebel. And when in love, where is the need for any change when every moment you remain becoming more beautiful?...
-Portia Burton
I was then having a strange urge for a change. I couldn't name it, but just felt its intensity........I wondered where this would take me. This urge is close to anticipation of a climax. It built on in waves...stronger and stronger. Would I ride on its waves? Would I let it sweep me away? Would I be on the crest of the waves? Would I let it pass? I did not know. I wanted to know.
In the past,my 'teen' days, which I cherish, whenever I wanted a change I used to run to the hairdresser. A change of hair cut or hair style would trap me into thinking of it as a change I wanted. Now I laugh at the thought of it. Pictures of myself keep reminding me how self - deceiving I was. An urge for change rooted into most intimate thoughts will not go away with a new hair-cut or new cloths or a new friend.
As I sip my morning cup of coffee, I realize that there is actually no need for change. It's my inner self which screams for freedom. Freedom from conventions, freedom from self-inflicted stereotypes, freedom from what others want me to have/want. When I am at peace with myself, there is no such urge. I am filled with creative flows, I am generous, I am happy. Have I forgotten the golden rules of inner peace? - 'Be grateful, see the beauty in everything around me, enjoy it, even if it's a fallen leaf! Breathe slowly, smile, laugh, dream with eyes wide open, let the warmth of love heal your heart!'etc...
Then I witnessed huge changes happening in one of my dearest friend Autumn Eliza's life. I know her for over 15 years now. She grew up with me and we have become soul-sisters. We both love art, artists, western classical music, and poetry.We even studied painting together because she wanted to study something with me since she is younger by two years to me, the fact she hates the most.But then 'love' happened to her and she embraced its enormous life transforming change over her cozy and secure life, rebelling against her parents.While witnessing her struggle to break away from what she thought as shackles and running towards an uncertain dream, I realized every change she made towards her inner self was gradual, painful at times but in a beautiful, creative way. She is now at peace. She has easily adjusted herself from a lavish living-style in London to a much simpler style in Paris with her beau. She is content in just one bedroom apartment there! I see it in her eyes, her gestures, her smile. Will she want to radically change anything now? I looked for an answer in her recent paintings, and I was satisfied to see that she had retained her merriness, her basic characteristic and needs no more change. She has anchored in a safe harbor, filled with love. And as for myself, I understood what was that strange urge. It was love calling me! I was surprised to see that my life is playing out my dear friend's life-story of embracing love over anything else, though luckily for me I did not need to rebel. And when in love, where is the need for any change when every moment you remain becoming more beautiful?...
-Portia Burton
14/11/2013
13/11/2013
12/11/2013
feeling Helpless For the Helpless People
Feeling Helpless For the Helpless People...
After attending the morning prayer
On the Remembrance Sunday,
Having observed two minutes' silence
For our country's war heroes,
We observed silence for two more minutes
For the thousands of helpless people
Of a distant Eastern country, who perished
In the attack of a deadly typhoon,
And that silence is still glued on my lips...
I listlessly go about my daily routine,
Yet those visuals on the news channels
Of the devastated cities, washed off villages,
Houses reduced to mere heaps of rubble,
Huge tress lying scattered like straws,
Dead people and animals lying like torn dolls...
Oh, God! Switching off the TV doesn't help,
Those visuals follow me along all the day,
In my head I hear the cries,and the last gasps
Of the helpless people before getting buried alive
Under the rubble or in the merciless mud....
The same story is played out in the restaurant
Where I've come for lunch with my beau,
And on visualizing that vile mud spread on my salad,
I get up and rush out in a huff,
My beau follows and asks me,"Why?"
But then understands and takes me in his arms,
And whispers,"baby, please don't cry,
We too are helpless like those unfortunate people
Whom we can't help much beyond silent prayers."
-Portia Burton
After attending the morning prayer
On the Remembrance Sunday,
Having observed two minutes' silence
For our country's war heroes,
We observed silence for two more minutes
For the thousands of helpless people
Of a distant Eastern country, who perished
In the attack of a deadly typhoon,
And that silence is still glued on my lips...
I listlessly go about my daily routine,
Yet those visuals on the news channels
Of the devastated cities, washed off villages,
Houses reduced to mere heaps of rubble,
Huge tress lying scattered like straws,
Dead people and animals lying like torn dolls...
Oh, God! Switching off the TV doesn't help,
Those visuals follow me along all the day,
In my head I hear the cries,and the last gasps
Of the helpless people before getting buried alive
Under the rubble or in the merciless mud....
The same story is played out in the restaurant
Where I've come for lunch with my beau,
And on visualizing that vile mud spread on my salad,
I get up and rush out in a huff,
My beau follows and asks me,"Why?"
But then understands and takes me in his arms,
And whispers,"baby, please don't cry,
We too are helpless like those unfortunate people
Whom we can't help much beyond silent prayers."
-Portia Burton
09/11/2013
08/11/2013
07/11/2013
06/11/2013
01/11/2013
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