William Shakespeare was born in April 1564 in Stratford-upon-Avon. He was a poet and actor, and is now considered the greatest English writer and the greatest playwright in the world. He wrote most of his works in London, and his plays were performed by a theater company of which he was a co-owner. In 1599, he built the famous “Globe Theatre” on the south bank of the River Thames with members of his acting company. He acted in his own plays as well as in the works of other authors. He wrote about 38 plays, 154 sonnets, and several poems. He died on April 23, 1616, so this year marks the 400th anniversary of his death.
A sonnet is a very demanding form of poetic expression in which Shakespeare masterfully used language. The structure of his sonnets consists of three quatrains connected by rhyme (ABAB / CDCD / EFEF) and a couplet connected by rhyme (GG), which contains the punchline. A sonnet with such a structure is called a Shakespearean sonnet.
He dedicated the sonnets to a young friend (sonnets 1-126), the dark lady (so net 127 – 154) and the poet’s rival (78 – 86). There have been many attempts to connect the characters from the sonnets with real historical figures, but that remains a mystery. Shakespearean scholars believe that it is very possible that some of the sonnets dedicated to Queen Elizabeth I were written at the request of Robert Devereux, the Earl of Essex, who was close to the Queen.
Shakespeare expresses his dilemmas, hopes, doubts, and considerations about love and friendship in a unique way in his works. His thoughts on the meaning of life, death, and enduring spiritual values are deeply philosophical, and poetry is one of the more subtle ways of expressing them. Some sonnets need to be read multiple times because, despite their universality, they are still tied to the Elizabethan era, so they require attention and patience when reading them. However, like all true gems of poetry, they will have a special place in our hearts.
Sonnet 24
The shadows of my imagination are playing,
By placing your likeness on the canvas of my heart;
My body is the frame that surrounds it,
And pers Perspective is a golden art.
Because through the painter you see the way
The faithfully painted image
Still in the store in my chest
To which the windows of your eyes clung;
With eyes, behold, they served as eyes;
Mine portrayed your likeness, and the windows
Of your eyes are the windows of my chest where
The sun flows, observing you through me;
Sight is skilled, but it is only known to paint
What it sees, the heart is foreign to it.
Sonnet 74
Do not mourn when death takes me in a silent chamber,
Where no redemption is accepted, and brings me along,
A part of my life is in that verse
That will remain with you as a memory of me.
When you read it, in that moment you will know
That every bit of me has been yours;
Ashes go to dust, that is their prey,
My spirit is yours, that is my best part;
Therefore, you only lose the residue of my life,
Food for worms, my pitiful body,
Poor prey of the cursed blade, with little meaning
So that your memories would be worth it;
Value lies only in the content of the body,
In this one, which will remain whole with you.