William Shakespeare
sonnet XXI з Вільяма Шекспіра
So is it not with me as with that Muse
Stirr`d by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heaven itself for ornament doth use
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse
Making a couplement of proud compare,
With sun and moon, with earth and sea`s rich gems,
With April`s first-born flowers, and all things rare
That heaven`s air in this huge rondure hems.
O` let me, true in love, but truly write,
And then believe me, my love is as fair
As any mother`s child, though not so bright
As those gold candles fix`d in heaven`s air:
Let them say more than like of hearsay well;
I will not praise that purpose not to sell.
William Shakespeare
Stirr`d by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heaven itself for ornament doth use
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse
Making a couplement of proud compare,
With sun and moon, with earth and sea`s rich gems,
With April`s first-born flowers, and all things rare
That heaven`s air in this huge rondure hems.
O` let me, true in love, but truly write,
And then believe me, my love is as fair
As any mother`s child, though not so bright
As those gold candles fix`d in heaven`s air:
Let them say more than like of hearsay well;
I will not praise that purpose not to sell.
William Shakespeare
Я не змагаюся з творцями од,
котрі̀ своїм фарбованим богиням
в дарунок пропонують горизонт
з додатком гір та океаном синім.
Нехай вони вставляють у рядки
слова, які завжди з жінками поряд,
про зорі в небі, квітів пелюстки,
про золото землі та перли моря.
В коханні й слові – правда мій закон
і я пишу, що ти така прекрасна,
як всі жінки, хто нас бере в полон,
а не як сонце, або місяць ясний.
Нікому про красу не розповім, –
коханням не торгую я своїм.