Sonnet 130 describes the physical imperfections of the speaker's mistress in an unconventional way. While traditionally beautiful women are compared to things like the sun, the speaker notes that his mistress' eyes are unlike the sun and her lips are less red than coral. He acknowledges her imperfections but loves her nonetheless, thinking his love is as genuine as any despite false comparisons of beauty.
Sonnet 130 describes the physical imperfections of the speaker's mistress in an unconventional way. While traditionally beautiful women are compared to things like the sun, the speaker notes that his mistress' eyes are unlike the sun and her lips are less red than coral. He acknowledges her imperfections but loves her nonetheless, thinking his love is as genuine as any despite false comparisons of beauty.
Sonnet 130 describes the physical imperfections of the speaker's mistress in an unconventional way. While traditionally beautiful women are compared to things like the sun, the speaker notes that his mistress' eyes are unlike the sun and her lips are less red than coral. He acknowledges her imperfections but loves her nonetheless, thinking his love is as genuine as any despite false comparisons of beauty.
Sonnet 130 describes the physical imperfections of the speaker's mistress in an unconventional way. While traditionally beautiful women are compared to things like the sun, the speaker notes that his mistress' eyes are unlike the sun and her lips are less red than coral. He acknowledges her imperfections but loves her nonetheless, thinking his love is as genuine as any despite false comparisons of beauty.
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The poem is describing the speaker's mistress in an unconventional way by comparing her unfavorably to things like the sun and roses.
The sun, coral lips, snow, roses, and a goddess.
The speaker says her breasts are dull/dark, her cheeks lack color, and her breath smells bad.
Sonnet 130
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 damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes (perfiums) is there 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, treads on the ground: (graound) And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied (bilaid) with false compare.
Sonnet 130 My mis/tress' eyes/ are no/thing 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/ damask'/d, red /and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in/ some per/fumes is/ there more/ delight Than in/ the breath/ that from/ my mis/tress reeks. I love/ to hear/ her speak,/ yet well/ I know That mu/sic hath/ a far/ more plea/sing sound; I grant/ I ne/ver saw/ a god/dess go; My mis/tress, when/ she walks,/ treads on/ the ground: And yet,/ by hea/ven, I think/ my love/ as rare As a/ny she/ belied/ with false/ compare.
Sonnet 130 Soneto 130 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 damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there 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, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare. Los ojos de mi amante no son como el sol; Coral es mucho mas rojo que sus labios rojos; Si la nieve es blanca,por que entonces sus pechos son pard; Si los cabellos son alambres, alambres negros que creecen en su cabe He visto rosas damasco rojas y blancas, Pero no parecidas en sus mejillas; Y en algunos perfumes hay mas deleite Que en la respiracion que de mi amante hiede. Amo escucharla hablar, aunque bueno yo se Que la musica tiene un sonido mucho mas agradable ; admito nunca vi una diosa ir; Mi amante, cuando camina, pisa sobre el suelo: Y todavia, por el cielo, pienso que mi amor es raro Como cualquiera ella desmentia con falso comparar.