Paraphrase – Sonnet 30 by W. Shakespeare

When to the sessions of sweet silent thoughtI summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:

Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before.

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.

When the courtroom goes silentI think of the pastI grieve my failure to achieve all that I wanted,And I sorrowfully remember that I wasted the best years of my life:

Then I cry, although I am not used to crying,For dear friends now in death's unending night,And cry again over sorrows that were long ago healed,And grieve the loss of many things that I have seen and loved:

Then can I mourn over past griefs again,And sadly speak my woes over and overReliving sorrows I’ve already grievedPaying my sorrow account, as if I had not paid before.

But if I think of you while I am in this state of sadness, dear friend,All my losses are compensated for and my sorrow ends.

Paraphrase – Sonnet 71 by W. Shakespeare

No longer mourn for me when I am dead

Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell

Give warning to the world that I am fled

From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:

Nay, if you read this line, remember not

The hand that writ it; for I love you so

That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot

If thinking on me then should make you woe.

O, if, I say, you look upon this verse

When I perhaps compounded am with clay,

Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.

But let your love even with my life decay,

   Lest the wise world should look into your moan

   And mock you with me after I am gone.

Don’t cry for me when I am dead,When you hear the funeral bellAnnounce to the world that I am goneFrom this world to live with the grave worms

If you read this line, don’t rememberThe hand that wrote it; I love you so muchThat I would rather have you forget meIf thinking about me will make you sad

If you look at this poemWhen I am rotting in the earthDon’t even speak my name,But let your love die with my death

So that cruel people in this world do not use Your grief to mock you when I am gone.

Paraphrase – Sonnet 54 by Edmund Spenser

Of this World’s theatre in which we stay,My love like the spectator idly sitsBeholding me that all the pageants play,Disguising diversely my troubled wits.

Sometimes I joy when glad occasion fits,And mask in mirth like to a comedy:Soon after when my joy to sorrow flits,I wail and make my woes a tragedy.

Yet she, beholding me with constant eye,Delights not in my mirth nor rues my smart:But when I laugh she mocks, and when I cryShe laughs and hardens evermore her heart.

What then can move her? if nor mirth nor moan,She is no woman, but a senseless stone.

In the theater of lifemy love sits and watches the play; She watches me and pretendsthat the things I say are said for other reasons.

Sometimes I am happy for good reasonAnd hide my happiness, like in a comedy,And afterwards, when I'm sad again I weep like I am in a tragedy.

But I know that my love is watching and not participating in my sadness or happiness But she makes fun of me when I laugh and when I cry, her heart grows colder

What can make her feel for me? If not happiness and not weeping, She's a stone, feeling nothing.

Paraphrase – Sonnet 17 by F. PetrarchA rain of bitter tears falls from my faceAnd a tormenting wind blows with my sighsWhenever toward you I turn my eyes,Whose absence cuts me from the human race.

It is true that the mild and gentle smilesDo soothe the ardour of my strong desireAnd rescue me from my martyrdom's fireWhile I intently look upon your guiles;

But my spirits become suddenly coldWhen I see, leaving, the acts I beholdStolen from me by my stars' fateful ray;Loosened at last by the amorous keys, The soul deserts the heart to seek your breeze,And in deep thought it tears itself away.

A cloud-burst of tears falls from my faceAnd sighs pour out of me like a rain stormWhenever I see you;Your absence makes me feel like giving up on life.

Your warm and gentle smilesSoothe my intense feelings and desireAnd rescue me from wanting to throw my life Away when I see your teasing looks;

But I grow sad and cold-heartedWhen I see you leavingStolen away from me, a little star, by a sun;You’ve been set free the one who holds love’s key to your heart,

The soul leaves the heart to seek you,And tears itself away in deep thought.