Can someone please write what each line of this Shakespeare sonnet means and what it means over all?

Question

How can I then return in happy plight
That am debarred the benefit of rest ?

When day’s oppression is not eas’d by night,
But day by night and night by day oppress’d.

And each (though enemies to either’s reign)
Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.

I tell the Day to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven:
So flatter I the swart-complexion’d night,
When sparkling stars twire not thou gild’st th’ even.

But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make grief’s length seem stronger



PLEASE WRITE YOUR EXPLAINATION IN UNDERSTANDABLE AND READABLE LANGUAGE. PLEASE ALSO SAY EXACTLY WHAT THEY MMEAN BE CLEAR AND CONCISE PLEASE. THANK YOU.

Answer 1

I would translate it more or less as:

How can I become happy again
When I can't sleep/rest?

The stresses of the day are not eased by rest at night.
Instead, the sleepless nights make the days more stressful and the stressful days make the sleepness nights more stressful.

And both day and night (though they're opposite to each other)
Work together to torture me.
During the day I work hard, then during the night I worry
about how hard I work during the day, and I still miss you.

I tell the daytime how bright it is, to flatter it,
and I'm polite to "him" (day) even when it's cloudy out.
I also flatter the dark night,
when sparkling stars do not twinkle.

But every day, the daytime just makes my sadness go on longer
and every night, night makes my grief go on longer.

*It sounds to me like the speaker in the sonnet has either lost a love one to death, or she is far away and he misses her. And he can't get any rest or relief from missing her, during the day or the night. It's like day and night are conspiring together to make his unhappiness go on forever.

Answer 2

through fact I have been given here good here from the rustic, I truthfully have not considered her close. tell me, is-- is she perfect? Thomas, if i ought to write with the surprising factor approximately her eyes, i replaced into born to look in them and understand myself. A-A-And her lips? Her lips? The early morning rose might whither on the dep. if it may experience envy. And her voice, like lark's music? Deeper, softer. None of your twittering larks. i might banish nightingales from her exterior in the past they interrupt her music. Oh, she sings too? - continuously. little doubt. And performs the lute. She has a organic and organic ear. And her bosom. Did I factor out her bosom? What of her bosom? Oh, Thomas, a pair of pippins... as around and uncommon as golden apples. i think of of milady is clever to maintain your love at a distance. For what lady ought to stay as plenty through fact it on the component of... jointly as her eyes and lips and voice may well be not greater perfect than mine. ---------william Shakespeare---'shakespeare in love'(the recent juliet)

Answer 3

Honey, I feel pity for you. I have no idea of what the hell is that man talking about in all those wordy stanzas. I really hope that someone could have the answer.

sorry and good luck

Answer 4

The previous person answered it as well as I could, but I just wanted to say that I performed these particular stanzas as a monologue once...