Unquenchable thirst of love…. Михаил Годов

© International Union of writers, 2020

      Mikhail Godov – member of the Union of writers of Moscow, member of the International Union of Writers, poet, sonnet writer, author of over 800 sonnets (10 wreath of sonnets included), and many poems of different genres published in a series of poetic books: «faces of love», «symphony of love», «Learning how to love», «Idols», «Love without the world is closely», «The house of soul», «I am talking to you about eternity» (series «modern and classics») and laureate of many international all-Russian literary contests and the winner of awards: International literary award «The gold quill of Russia 2008» (Moscow), award Belinski 2019, participant of Moscow International Book Fair (MIBF) 2019, author of songs and romances of different genres in Russian and German.

      Since 2001 the poet lives in Nuremberg, Germany.

      Preamble

      This book is about an endless declaration of love to a wonderful woman in a classic sonnet style, in tradition, which goes all the way up to Francesco Petrarke, William Shakespeare, Ronsar, Bodler, Verlen and other famous masters of this genre.

      The insatiable appetite for this love is that strong, that it could not be quenched, because since it is quenched, the lyrical hero glows with this love again and again.

      The image of the beloved takes shape of all women, who made all the poets crazy, plebs and royals who fell in love with them, ready for any craziness and escapades for this love and at the same time converted to the only beloved, whom the poet gives the confession of love!

      But words transferred by the time machine from far epochs by sophisticated ladies in crinolines and gallant gentlemen in j ackets and frills sewed of gold, forgotten and unfamiliar, are suddenly starting sounding modern, personal and heartfelt that the real feeling comes up that there is no threat by naphthalene smelling chests, that in our time that is far away from sentimentality there is only this way of confessing love, that Romeo and Julia, our contemporaries, live anywhere among us…

      AND LIVE A DAY…

      sonnet wreath book

      This book is about many areas of life of humans and humanity from their origin up to now, the full range of feelings experienced by each of us, but its leitmotif is love in all its faces and hypostasis!

      The «shell» that includes all life collisions and feelings is the favourite genre of the poet: a sonnet presented in its most difficult, superior and very rare mode of wreath of sonnets. The book includes five of them and three thematic cycle of sonnets, called by the author with regard to their number: «octet of sonnets». All this makes the book unique in its form and content, since there are no other precedents in the Russian and international poetry for poetic books that includes only wreaths of sonnets and belongs to the quill of only one poet (as the group of compendium), not to mention the extreme rarity of this genre. As far as the translation is concerned, from Russian, the native language of the poet, into English, the challenge for the translator is initially extremely difficult as the poetic language used by the author is very demanding and in a perfect form with a binding classic rhyming that makes the translation much more challenging. And even though the translator mostly managed it to translate the content of the poetic material with maximum effort, the elegant, peculiar and original form of the poetry retains only partly, despite this doesn't make the acquaintance with this book of the flamboyant, distinctive author, less attractive for the English-speaking reader.

      Unquenchable thirst of love…

      sonnet book

      (Part one)

      The name of rose

      Sonnet 1

      I wandered in the depth of garden alleys

      Went hat in hand to spirit of this place

      Among the statues, with their Gothic grace

      Among the splash of multi-coloured wearing

      The icon lamp of autumn there was lit.

      October ascended to its golden throne

      And yet the brightness wasn't gone

      Carried by winds, so boastful and so swift.

      In the array of asters, autumn flowers

      A thorn so sharply touched my heart

      That dark red rose, that velvet sight

      And then my shield and helmet lost their power

      This pain I still envision; as if so behoves,

      Caused by the rose, which name is love.

      Sonnet 3

      Don't take for granted plain and trivial words,

      They are just mask, when seen with more attention,

      Don't take for granted casual, simple words

      Behind them – all my pain, all my affection

      Don't be confused with the indifferent tone,

      It's an attempt, although not trustworthy,

      To keep inside the loud, so unwilled moan…

      This pain I can't endure, you've left no mercy.

      To chat with you of trifles, little things,

      To be amusing and to burst in laughing

      To tell you just of lovely little things

      Make a pretense: such moments are just nothing

      But jokes…Take off the spell, I used to feel before,

      For I just can't keep silence anymore.

      Sonnet 15

      Just touch my hand with hand of yours,

      And our hearts will feel this touching.

      I wish that we were so close,

      As only can be ones, who're loving.

      I wish that love could be for us

      The breathing, hearing, and vision,

      And blood in our veins, that runs,

      The flesh and spirit of our living.

      Don't let it leave us, don't let away,

      Don't let it fade beyond a distance,

      I want to experience each grain

      Of love, each sad and happy instance.

      To share with Her fate and fame,

      Until the last anguish and pain.

      Sonnet 17

      Simplicity we often take for nonsense

      And we're ashamed to say the gentle words

      We hide our souls, we're probably unconscious

      Of this, afraid of souls confidingly unclosed

      It's difficult for us to talk in style

      Of Romeo and Juliette, without tension.

      We think since then the centuries has gone by

      In other way life's writing its inventions

      So let it be, and I've no intent to argue

      Yes. Different is the World, where we belong

      And my affection I am also hiding

      Ashamed, as if Shakespeare's words were wrong,

      The storm of feeling takes my power of speech…

      Those tender words, extremely hard to reach.

      Sonnet 19

      You are entirely unexpected,

      Your