Book Excerpts:from the 60
Lost Sonnets of Cyrano de Bergerac, a poetic fiction, 2nd edition
Sonnet 6
HER touch, her kiss, her glance - what slaves me more?
Those three define my world: with touch I know
The wind alive and merciful; her kiss,
The passion of the earth; her glance, the call
To penetrate the wood most dangerous.
She is a moon who dominates my night,
A pearl whose weight I cannot bear, yet must.
What pleasure to be crushed by the sublime!
Yet why be crushed at all? Oblivion
Is no great boon for winning love. The thing
Known, enjoyed, is the thing approached, unlaced,
Embraced and protected by one's weapon.
Why be at all if not to be the one
To carry off the moon and seize the sun?
Sonnet 11
INSULTS and challenges disturb my sleep:
I wake from dreams with oaths upon my lips,
Hurling my gauntlet toward the grinning dark
And scratching for the pommel of my sword.
My enemies know of better ways to sliver me:
This jest upon my face is only flesh;
The DEATH OF AGRIPPINA is my soul.
No children will be running after me.
No son proud of his name and swaggering
Elite salons or bawdy cabarets.
Instead, I have fathered a play or two,
Some comedies about the Sun and Moon:
My progeny, unread, in some dank room.
Sonnet 30
DO you remember how you sang to me
In that somber meadow long ago?
Your voice gave benediction to the land
Which swelled and burst, and rippled beauty out
As far as I could see. I was enthralled.
Then Spider Dread crawled over me and leered,
And said,"...because of some ungodly frost
The flowers of the earth may well be lost."
But it was not the earth I fretted for,
The fields that blossomed red and blue, the birds
Suddenly with song, the hills with scent,
But you, who brought this glory here. I felt
So nauseous: that should death come for you
There would be nothing Cyrano could do.
