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Shakespeare, her eyes are not like stars. Original and Russian versions

In this article you can read an analysis of Shakespeare's sonnet 130, find out the history of the origin of this poem, and also to whom this sonnet was most likely dedicated. In addition, the article presents the original work in English and several translation options.

Original and Russian versions

Without reading the poem itself, it is impossible to analyze it. William Shakespeare "Sonnet 130" - original on English language:

M 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;
Tf hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head;
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes there is 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, threads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

The poem can be literally translated as follows:

"My lover's eyes are not like the sun,

Coral is much redder than the redness of her lips,

The snow is white, and for some reason her breasts are grayish-brown,

Her hair is like a wire, a black wire growing from her head,

I saw red and white damask roses

But the shades of these roses are not on her cheeks,

And many scents are much nicer

Than the smell coming from my lover's breath.

I love listening to her talk, but I know -

It doesn't sound like music.

I've never seen goddesses walk

My mistress, in any case, walks the earth.

But, heaven knows, my beloved is exceptional

Those who were seduced by false comparisons."

This is how Samuel Marshak translated sonnet 130:

Her eyes are not like stars
You can't call your mouth coral,
The open skin of the shoulders is not snow-white,
And a strand curls like black wire.
With scarlet or white,
You can't compare the shade of these cheeks.
And the body smells like the body smells,
Not like a violet's delicate petal.
You won't find perfect lines in it,
Special light on the forehead.
I don't know how the goddesses walk,
But the darling steps on the ground.
And yet she will hardly yield to those
Who was slandered in comparisons of magnificent people.

And here is the translation by Modest Tchaikovsky:

Her eyes are not like the sun,
The coral is redder than her lips,
Snow and sweet breasts are not the same thing,
Her braid is made of black wires.
There are many roses, crimson, white, red,
But I don’t see them in her features, -
Although there are many beautiful incense,
Alas, but not in her mouth.
Her grumbling delights me
But the music doesn't sound like that at all.
I don't know how goddesses perform
But my lady's step is not easy.‎
And yet, I swear, she's cuter,‎
Than the best of mortals next to her.

Analysis of Shakespeare's Sonnet 130

The work is written in the style of a poetic portrait, the heroine of which is a certain lady who has exclusively “earthly” characteristics - she does not resemble a goddess either in skin color, or smell, or gait. The key to the sonnet is the conclusion: despite the absence of “divine” features, the author loves all the features of his beloved woman, which make her exceptional. This description is contrasted with false comparisons that are most often told to a woman in order to persuade her to have an intimate relationship.

An analysis of Shakespeare's sonnet 130 shows that in both Marshak's and Tchaikovsky's translations the key meaning is slightly lost. Samuel Yakovlevich is quite close to Shakespeare's idea in the final lines, but he misses an important detail: at the beginning of the poem the author calls the heroine "mistress", and in the final part - "beloved".

This is important because Shakespeare alludes to similar poetry of his contemporaries, in which the always praised girl is first called beloved and then becomes mistress. The poet wanted to emphasize that he was describing a girl with whom he was already in a relationship, which means that his words did not pursue any selfish purpose. And Tchaikovsky misses this important detail in his translation, and also distorts the meaning of the key: he does not mention those girls who believe comparisons with roses and goddesses.

To whom did Shakespeare dedicate Sonnet 130?

An analysis of the poem about the “earthly beloved,” coupled with an analysis of the entire work of William Shakespeare of this period, does not give an exact answer to the question of what kind of girl is described in the sonnet. Some researchers believe that the work features Lady Mary Fitton, Elizabeth the First and one of Shakespeare's lovers. A portrait of this lady is presented below.

However, despite the fact that Mary Fitton is depicted with dark hair in all portraits, contemporaries describe her as "dark blonde with white skin", which is not very similar to the description in the sonnet. It is much more likely that the poem is dedicated to the collective image of a girl of Italian or Spanish origin - southern appearance was not very popular in England at the time of Shakespeare.

Fair-haired girls with white skin and pink blush were much more valued. easy breathing and silent steps. An analysis of Shakespeare's sonnet 130 suggests that at that time the poet could have been infatuated with one of those southern women whom the glorifying poetry of that time avoided.

Feature of the work

This poem is one of the most recognizable in the work of the famous English poet. It is studied within school curriculum and quoted in songs and films. What is so special about Shakespeare's sonnet 130?

An analysis of the work of the writer’s contemporaries makes it clear that almost all portrait poetry deified its heroines, and comparisons of skin with snow, blush with roses, to which Shakespeare contrasts the features of his heroine, have become real clichés.

With his poem, the poet wanted to emphasize the value and exclusivity of the natural qualities of the appearance of every girl and woman, for whom one can have no less feelings than for the invented images of ephemeral goddesses.

Her eyes are not like stars, Her lips cannot be called corals, Her open skin is not snow-white, And a strand curls like black wire. With a damask rose, scarlet or white, the shade of these cheeks cannot be compared. And the body smells like the body smells, Not like the delicate petal of a violet. You won’t find perfect lines in her, or a special light on her forehead. I don’t know how goddesses walk, But my dear one walks on the earth. And yet she will hardly yield to those who were slandered in magnificent comparisons. Translation by S.Ya. Marshak All translations by Samuil Marshak I can’t compare my dove’s eyes to the sun; Compared to the neck, the snow is of course whiter; The scarlet color of coral is scarlet than these lips, The wave of her curls does not shine with gold. Yes, I saw roses in distant Damascus, But you won’t find those roses on her cheeks; Alas, the caress of her breath is not as tender as the wonderful aroma that flowers emit! I love her speech, I just can’t say: it’s more tender than the sounds of music! Although the gait of a wonderful fairy is unfamiliar to me, I know the firm step of my beloved!.. But I swear to heaven that you are just as beautiful, Like those whom the flatterer is ready to praise biasedly!.. Translation by L. Umanets Her eyes are not like the sun , Coral is redder than her lips, Snow and sweet breasts are not the same thing, Her braid is made of black wires. There are many crimson, white, red roses, But I don’t see them in her features - Although there are many beautiful incense, Alas, but not in her mouth. Her grumbling delights me, But the music doesn't sound like that at all. I don’t know how goddesses perform, But my lady’s step is not easy. And yet, I swear, she is sweeter than the best of mortals next to her. Translation by M.I. Tchaikovsky All translations by Modest Tchaikovsky Her eyes are not the least bit sunny, The corals are not red on her lips; My friend’s chest is not the white snow, I don’t see the strings in her black hair. Al or white, the color of a damask rose, But the eye cannot find the roses in the cheeks. And the perfume has a more captivating bouquet than the aroma of this breath. Her words are dear to me, But the music sounds much sweeter; I am unfamiliar with the gait of the deity: My love treads the earth. And yet she is no worse, without a doubt, than any of the victims of insincere comparisons. Translation by Alexander Gurevich My lady's gaze is not the sun, no, And her lips are not like coral; Her breasts are not snow-white, And her hair is coarse like wire. I have seen many white and scarlet roses, But I don’t see them on her cheeks, And the smell of black braids cannot compare with the delight of famous incense; Her speech is sweet to me, but I know that music is richer than blessings; When my lady steps, it is clear to me: it is not the gait of a goddess; And yet, no matter what I compare with her, she is dearer to me than anything in the world. Translation by O. Rumer All translations by Osip Rumer My love’s face is not like the sun, The corals are brighter than her lips burn, When the snow is white, then the beautiful breast is not like it, And her hair is silk - she does not have a cascade of it. I have seen many roses, kept strictly in gardens, But there are no such roses on my dear one’s cheeks, And there are many better incense around than the one that rests on her lips. I love to listen to her babble, but I know that the music sounds better and more tender, And I can’t equate the completely earthly steps of my beloved to the steps of goddesses. And yet, for me, she is a hundred times sweeter than all those who could possibly be compared with her. Translation by N.V. Gerbel All translations by Nikolai Gerbel Her eyes are not like the sun, no; Coral is redder than these scarlet lips; Darker than snow skin color; Like wire, black hair is rough; There are countless number of patterned roses in the gardens, But they are not visible on her cheeks; And in the world there are many aromas, Her breath is sweeter and stronger; I find joy in her speeches, Even though the music is more pleasant to the ear; I won’t tell you how the goddesses walk, but she walks the earth like everyone else, my friend. And I swear, she is no worse than those whom lies glorify in comparisons. Translation by A.M. Finkel All translations by Alexander Finkel The eyes of your beloved cannot outshine the sun, Her lips are not redder than corals, And her chest is dark - cannot be compared with snow, Black as pitch is the mop of her curls. Alley, the roses of the south do not burn on the pale velvet, Her breath does not flow at all from the fragrant flowers. My friend's speech is sweet and my heart is pleased, but the sounds of the strings are sweeter, She does not have the grace of a goddess: The beloved steps on the ground. But I swear that all comparisons are entirely with her beauty next to her - just a lie! Translation by A. Vasilchikov The radiant gaze of dawn is brighter than sweet eyes, The soft shine of corals is brighter and more tender The blush of your cheeks and your shoulders are whiter Snow, silvering in the valleys, like a diamond. In the gardens of mid-day countries, with the tremulous flickering of rays burning with silver and gold, The living kingdom of roses streams fragrances - And the roses of your lips are paler than their purple. Your voice is sweet to me, but the sounds of harmonious songs in the azure darkness of solemnly calm nights more powerfully enchant the ear with living harmony. But believe me: for me, all this imperishable splendor of Heaven, earth and waters - all the wonders of the universe, Burning with colors - everything fades before you! Translation by F.A. Chervinsky

Original text in English

Sonnet 130. My mistress" eyes are nothing like the sun

Notes to the sonnet:

*	Shakespeare's friends most likely knew to whom the sonnet was addressed, they knew that he both loved and hated the addressee, therefore, when instead of the expected word dark sounded dun(dirty gray, brown) and even intonationally emphasized as duŋ(a prison cell with a floor covered in dung) this probably made them laugh. This could also be a reference to the phrase The dun cow(grayish-brown cow).
**	Damasked roses– patterns on fabric in the form of a rose or burnished steel (steel Rose).
***	In Elizabethan times, hair was often compared to wires, which were used for jewelry purposes and lavish embroidery.
****	rare = precious(precious).
*****	in this case the word belied used simultaneously in the meaning slandered And laid(seduced).

More information about this sonnet

My mistress" eyes are nothing like the sun(My beloved's eyes are not at all like the sun) - from the first line Shakespeare asks general theme narratives. And although Shakespeare’s sonnets do not have titles, in this case the first line more than ever successfully characterizes the general meaning, so sonnet 130 is often referred to not by its number, but by this unofficial name. In Russian, the version of the first line is also popular Her eyes are not like stars.

In fact, we have before us a parody of the sonnets of Shakespeare’s contemporaries, in particular Petraki, full of falsehood and insincere compliments, with the help of which the flatterers slandered their addressees as quickly as possible in false comparisons in order to quickly win their way into their bed. In Sonnet 130, Shakespeare opposes himself to cliches and, without a shadow of delicacy, tries to convey to his beloved that, despite her earthly shortcomings that he honestly noticed, he loves her exactly as she is and does not give her any reproaches for this.

Unfortunately, none of the Russian translators managed to correctly translate the sonnet, since it is translated as a lyric poem, bypassing inapplicable “non-literary” comparisons. Samuel Marshak, it seems, did not understand Shakespeare's intention at all or considered it unacceptable and, thus, removing all realistic epithets, turned it into one of those sonnets that Shakespeare parodied.

So, for real, Sonnet 130 is a sparkling parody to love sonnets, full of non-literary (by modern standards) comparisons and devoid of pathos. Simply put, it’s a joke among friends. And not only other poets, but also the address that aroused the fire of love and jealousy in Shakespeare. In any case, the sonnet ends on an honest and positive note towards the “dark lady.”

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 damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks,
And in some perfumes there is 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 threads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Prose translation:

My beloved's eyes are not at all like the sun;
The coral is much redder than the red of her lips;
if snow is white, then why are her breasts brown;
if the hair is compared to a wire, then it is on her head
black wire grows.
I've seen damask roses, red and white,
but I don't find any roses in her cheeks,
and there are more pleasant aromas,
than the spirit that comes from my beloved.
I love to hear her talk and still I feel good
it is known
that music has a much more pleasant sound.
I admit that I have never seen goddesses walk,
my beloved, when she walks, steps heavily on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I believe that my love
not inferior to beauty
to any woman who has been slandered by false comparisons.

Translation by S.Ya.Marshak:

Her eyes are not like stars
You can't call your mouth coral,
The open skin of the shoulders is not snow-white,
And a strand curls like black wire.

With damask rose, scarlet or white,
You can't compare the shade of these cheeks.
And the body smells like the body smells,
Not like a violet's delicate petal.

You won't find perfect lines in it,
Special light on the forehead.
I don't know how the goddesses walk,
But the darling steps on the ground.

And yet she will hardly yield to those
Who was slandered in comparisons of magnificent people.

Lyrics:

Her eyes are not like stars

A living fire beats in them like a moth

Another ordinary evening will pass

And with her he is different every time.

Her reproaches are harbingers of coolness

Like grass cut in August

And let there not be a drop of truth in her words

She's divinely right.

Chorus:

Somewhere the angels are shouting: "Forgive - goodbye"

The soul melts like a candle

Sadness flowed through my heart

I am forever yours, you are nobody's.

Her radiance outshines the sun