Na ih cherty totchas lozhitsya ten' I kazhdyj spryatat' norovit svoj lik. Vot tak, bezdetnym perejdya zenit, Uvidish', chto k zakatu ty zabyt. VIII Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly? Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy: Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly, Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy? If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, By unions married do offend thine ear, They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear: Mark how one string sweet husband to another, Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; Resembling sire, and child, and happy mother, Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing: Whose speechless song being many, seeming one, Sings this to thee, 'Thou single wilt prove none'. 8 Ty - muzyka, chto zh lyutne ty ne rad? Smeh druzhit s shutkoj, s medom - sladost'; A rad - togda zachem tvoj grusten vzglyad? Il' grust' tebe i dostavlyaet radost'? Postyla pesn' semejnyh klavikordov? Znaj - v nej odin uprek: ty slishkom gord! Tshchas' notoj zamenit' soyuz akkordov, Ty predal ih: stal sam sebe akkord! Zvuchat zhe struny liry il' gitary - Vse po odnoj, no vmeste. Vspomnim: On, I Deva yunaya, i plotnik staryj - Tri odnomu molilis' v unison. Bez slov orkestr tebe poet sam-sto: "Kto zhil odin, dlya vechnosti - nikto"; IX Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye, That thou consum'st thy self in single life? Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die, The world will wail thee like a makeless wife, The world will be thy widow and still weep, That thou no form of thee hast left behind, When every private widow well may keep, By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind: Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it; But beauty's waste hath in the world an end, And kept unused the user so destroys it: No love toward others in that bosom sits That on himself such murd'rous shame commits. 9 Ne ottogo l' zhivesh' ty holostoj, CHto vdov'ih slez strashish'sya bezuteshnyh? Da polno! Sdelaesh' ves' mir vdovoj, Put' na zemle okonchiv greshnyj. Ves' v traure, mir udivlen i tih: Emu ty ne ostavil nichego; Vdova zhe hot' v glazah detej rodnyh Uvidit serdcem muzha svoego. Ne propadaet v etom mire zlato, Kto b ni vladel im - skryaga ili mot, No bezvozvratna krasoty rastrata: Bezdetnaya, ona ne ozhivet. O, net! Sovsem lyudej ne lyubit tot, Kto krasotu v samom sebe ub'et. X For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any Who for thy self art so improvident. Grant if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many, But that thou none lov'st is most evident: For thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate, That 'gainst thy self thou stick'st not to conspire, Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate Which to repair should be thy chief desire: O change thy thought, that I may change my mind, Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love? Be as thy presence is gracious and kind, Or to thy self at least kind-hearted prove, Make thee another self for love of me, That beauty still may live in thine or thee. 10 Ne govori, chto chuvstvom okoldovan I chto zhivesh', ves' mir vokrug lyubya: Vot lyudi polyubit' tebya gotovy; A ty, uvy, vlyublen lish' sam v sebya. Ne ty li sam sebe pervejshij vrag - Prestupnik, zagovorshchik neumelyj? Mechtaesh' ty razrushit' tot ochag, CHto sam slozhit' byl dolzhen pervym delom. Ochnis', chtob polyubit' tebya ya smog, Dobru - ne zlobe - pishchu daj i krov; Bud' serdcem blagoroden i shirok Iz zhalosti k sebe, v konce koncov. Lyubya menya, stan' luchshe i svetlej, Umnozh' svoyu krasu krasoj detej. XI As fast as thou shalt wane so fast thou grow'st, In one of thine, from that which thou departest, And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st, Thou mayst call thine, when thou from youth convertest, Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase, Without this folly, age, and cold decay, If all were minded so, the times should cease, And threescore year would make the world away: Let those whom nature hath not made for store, Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish: Look whom she best endowed, she gave thee more; Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish: She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby, Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die. 11 Sedeya, vozrozhdaemsya opyat' V lyubom iz novyh otpryskov. I chto zh? Tu krov', chto, yunyj, ty speshil otdat', Ty v starosti svoeyu nazovesh'. Vse v etoj krugoverti - krasota, A bez nee - starenie, zastoj. Razrushit mir bezdetnyh nishcheta: Polveka - i kladbishchenskij pokoj. Te, kto prirodoj ne byl nagrazhden, Zabudutsya - pechalen ih udel, Tebe zh, chtob ne propala svyaz' vremen, S gryadushchim podelit'sya Bog velel. Ty byl na medi vyrezan igloj, CHtob v detyah povtorilsya ottisk tvoj. XII When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night, When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silvered o'er with white: When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the herd And summer's green all girded up in sheaves Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard: Then of thy beauty do I question make That thou among the wastes of time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake, And die as fast as they see others grow, And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence Save breed to brave him, when he takes thee hence. 12 Kogda ya vizhu, kak stremglav letyat Dve strelki v krugoverti zavodnoj, Kak vdrug fialki bleknet aromat, Kak lokon otlivaet sedinoj, Kak gol bez list'ev les, k zime gotov, Gde letom byl v teni skotu priyut; Kak proch' sedye borody snopov Pod skrip i plach teleg s polej vezut; Togda sproshu: "Nu, a lico tvoe Ne poshchadit li Vremya, chelovek?" Uvy! I krasotu zhdet zabyt'e: Na smenu nam prihodit novyj vek. Kto zashchitit ot Vremeni kosy? Lish' tvoj potomok, dochka ili syn. XIII O that you were your self, but love you are No longer yours, than you your self here live, Against this coming end you should prepare, And your sweet semblance to some other give. So should that beauty which you hold in lease Find no determination, then you were Your self again after your self s decease, When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear. Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, Which husbandry in honour might uphold, Against the stormy gusts of winter's day And barren rage of death's eternal cold? O none but unthrifts, dear my love you know, You had a father, let your son say so. 13 ZHivi takim, kakim tebya lyublyu! No kak tebe prinadlezhat' sebe? Ty smerten. K Sudnomu gotov'sya dnyu, Dari sebya potomkam i zhene. Tak ssudu krasoty v arendu b smog Ty prevratit' i vechno sam soboj Ostalsya b ty, pereshagnuv porog, V potomkah sohranyaya oblik svoj. Net duraka, chtob dom svoj ne bereg, Ego napolniv teploj dobrotoj. Kto by v moroz sogret' ego ne smog, Vpuskaya v steny holod grobovoj? Lyubov' daet tebe sovet odin: Ty znal otca - pust' znaet i tvoj syn. XIV Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy, But not to tell of good, or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality, Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell; Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind, Or say with princes if it shall go well By oft predict that I in heaven find. But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, And constant stars in them I read such art As truth and beauty shall together thrive If from thy self, to store thou wouldst convert: Or else of thee this I prognosticate, Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date. 14 YA ne astrolog, hot' gadat' mogu, No ne po zvezdam, chto na nas glyadyat. Net, nichego ne znayu pro sud'bu, Pro epidemii, pro zasuhu, pro glad; Mne ne podskazhut vernye primety, Komu gryadut lihie vremena; I sil'nym mira mne l' davat' sovety, Tolkuya zvezd nemye pis'mena? YA po glazam sud'bu chitat' privyk I v etih tvoih zvezdah vizhu yasno: Raz ty Krasy i Sovershenstv cvetnik, Semyan ne vysevaesh' ty naprasno! YA predskazhu: iz zhizni tvoj uhod I Sovershenstvo, i Krasu ub'et. XV Then I consider every thing that grows Holds in perfection but a little moment. That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows Whereon the stars in secret influence comment. When I perceive that men as plants increase, Cheered and checked even by the self-same sky: \&unt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, And wear their brave state out of memory. Then the conceit of this inconstant stay, Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, Where wasteful time debateth with decay To change your day of youth to sullied night, And all in war with Time for love of you, As he takes from you, I engraft you new. 15 Kogda smotryu na les, gde pravit Flora, YA vizhu: sovershenstva mig letuch. Ves' mir - vsego lish' scena, na kotoroj Sud'bu veshchayut zvezdy iz-za tuch. Nad vsem zemnym odin dovleet rok, Pod solncem vse podvlastno nebesam; Ty gord, poka techet po zhilam sok, A v starosti zabytym budesh' sam. Na etoj scene brennosti zemnoj Tebe bogatstvo yunosti dano; Tut Vremya vechnyj spor vedet s Zimoj Za pravo yada vlit' v tvoe vino. I esli Vremya skosit zhizn' tvoyu, YA svoj sonet na koren' tvoj priv'yu. XVI But wherefore do not you a mightier way Make war upon this bloody tyrant Time? And fortify your self in your decay With means more blessed than my barren rhyme? Now stand you on the top of happy hours, And many maiden gardens yet unset, With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers, Much liker than your painted counterfeit: So should the lines of life that life repair Which this (Time's pencil) or my pupil pen Neither in inward worth nor outward fair Can make you live your self in eyes of men. To give away your self, keeps your self still, And you must live drawn by your own sweet skill. 16 Uzheli nas nichto ne zashchitit Ot Vremeni - ubijcy tiranii I eti strochki lomkie, suhie I est' tot samyj luchshij shchit? V zenite let, poka ty zhizni rad, Sady pokorno zhdut trudov tvoih, CHtob dat' plody - prekrasnyj vinograd, CHto ves', kak ty, a ne besplodnyj stih. Zaveshchano nam v detyah voploshchat'sya. Ni metra kist', ni karandash poka Tvoj oblik ne sposobny, kak ni tshchatsya Potomkam donesti cherez veka. Dari sebya v zenite yunyh let - I sam v vekah napishesh' svoj portret. XVII Who will believe my verse in time to come If it were filled with your most high deserts? Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts: If I could write the beauty of your eyes, And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say this poet lies, Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces. So should my papers (yellowed with their age) Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue, And your true rights be termed a poet's rage, And stretched metre of an antique song. But were some child of yours alive that time, You should live twice in it, and in my rhyme. 17 Kto mne poverit, kak krasiv byl milyj, Prochtya moi sonety vse podryad? No, vidit Bog, stihi, kak i mogily, Skorej skryvayut, a ne govoryat. Sluchis', chto slov nevidannyh najdu ya, Daby sravnen'em rascvetit' sonet, "Ty lzhesh', - potomok skazhet, negoduya, - Krasy podobnoj ne bylo i net". I rukopisi vse v konce koncov Sochtut pridumkoj glupoj starika; Tebya zhe - duhom, vlozhennym pevcom V protyazhnyj slog antichnogo stiha. Imej ty syna - verili by mne; V nem i v sonetah prozhil by vdvojne. XVIII Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed, And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed: But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st, So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. 18 Tebya b sravnit' mne s dnem progretym, Hot' ty ego priyatnej vse ravno. Tam to potop, to veter; da i leto Nam lish' v arendu kratkuyu dano: To zharko svetit solnce s vysoty, To oko Bozhie zatyagivayut teni; Razmyty ideal'nye cherty Vnezapnoj cep'yu strannyh izmenenij. Krase zh tvoej v vekah ne zamutnet', Ne rasteryat' vseh krasok nenarokom; O kak zhe budet zlit'sya Smert', Kogda ty zazhivesh' v bessmertnyh strokah! Pokuda lyudi dyshat, govoryat, ZHivut stihi, zhizn' i tebe darya. XIX Devouring Time blunt thou the lion's paws, And make the earth devour her own sweet brood, Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, And burn the long-lived phoenix, in her blood, Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st, And do whate'er thou wilt swift-footed Time To the wide world and all her fading sweets: But I forbid thee one most heinous crime, O carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen, Him in thy course untainted do allow, For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. Yet do thy worst old Time: despite thy wrong, My love shall in my verse ever live young. 19 O Vremya, razrushitel' i zlodej! Ty tupish' tigra klyk i kogot' l'va, Daesh' Saturnu est' svoih detej, Szhigaesh' vechnyh Feniksov dotla; Tasuesh' karty s Letom i Zimoj, Tvorish', chto tol'ko vzdumaesh' so vsej Vselennoj bespredel'noj krasotoj, Ty tol'ko trogat' milogo ne smej: Ne daj ego vesennim dnyam otcvest', Pust' on rezcom ne budet iskazhen. Ostav' ego - pust' prozhivet, kak est', Kak krasoty bessmertnyj etalon. A, vprochem, ispolnyaj svoj merzkij plan: V moih stihah on ne sostaritsya i sam. XX A woman's face with nature's own hand painted, Hast thou the master mistress of my passion, A woman's gentle heart but not acquainted With shifting change as is false women's fashion, An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling: Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth, A man in hue all hues in his controlling, Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth. And for a woman wert thou first created, Till nature as she wrought thee fell a-doting, And by addition me of thee defeated, By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. But since she pricked thee out for women's pleasure, Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure. 20 Priroda zhenskim lik tvoj napisala, Moj syuzeren, o net, moj h'yuzeren! V tebya vlozhili zhenskoe nachalo, No bez nepostoyanstva i izmen. Tvoj vzor koketstva nachisto lishen, On chist i pryam, no vlasten ne po-zhenski; On manit vozvyshayushchim blazhenstvom u Serdca muzhej i iskushaet zhen. Zadumannyj vnachale kak devica, Ty tak Prirodu krasotoj plenil, CHto ot nee dovesok poluchil. Uvy! Teper' nam ne soedinit'sya! Dlya zhen uteh ty nagrazhden streloj, Ih i razi. Lyubov' deli so mnoj. XXI So is it not with me as with that muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven it self 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 fixed in heaven's air: Let them say more that like of hearsay well, I will not praise that purpose not to sell. 21 Kak mozhno s geniyami sostyazat'sya, CHto virshi razryazhayut v puh i prah? Lish' shag ot krasoty do svyatotatstva, Ves' mir - teatr v zatejlivyh stihah, CHto lomyatsya ot vyvertov otmennyh. Luna i Solnce, zvezdy, pervocvet - Vse eto v ih tvoreniyah netlennyh Lish' sovershenstva mira argument. Ne lgu ya ni v lyubvi, ni v pesnopen'i, A pervaya mne tak zhe doroga, Kak syn - otcu, chto huzhe kak sravnen'e, CHem "v nebesah zhivye zhemchuga". Vysokoparnost' - tozhe Bozhij dar: YA zh ne torgash, a chuvstva - ne tovar. XXII My glass shall not persuade me I am old, So long as youth and thou are of one date, But when in thee time's furrows I behold, Then look I death my days should expiate. For all that beauty that doth cover thee, Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me, How can I then be elder than thou art? O therefore love be of thyself so wary, As I not for my self, but for thee will, Bearing thy heart which 1 will keep so chary As tender nurse her babe from faring ill. Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain, Thou gav'st me thine not to give back again. 22 Vret zerkalo, chto ya starik, poka ty YUn yunoj yunost'yu yuncov; Moj lish' togda nastupit chas rasplaty, Kogda tvoe sostaritsya lico. Tvoya krasa, kak dragocennyj kamen', Kak dar lyubvi, chto my granim, hranya. S teh por, kak obruchilis' my serdcami, Kak ya mogu staree byt' tebya? Lelej sebya, bud' molodym do sroka: V sebe menya spasesh'. Pust' vse umrut - YA sberegu tebya, moyu zenicu oka, Kak materi rebenka beregut. Razbiv mne serdce, voli ty ne zhdi: Ty - u menya, ya - u tebya v grudi. XXIII As an imperfect actor on the stage, Who with his fear is put beside his part, Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart; So I for fear of trust, forget to say, The perfect ceremony of love's rite, And in mine own love's strength seem to decay, O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might: O let my looks be then the eloquence, And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, Who plead for love, and look for recompense, More than that tongue that more hath more expressed. O learn to read what silent love hath writ, To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit. 23 Kak debyutant smushchennyj na prem'ere Ne v silah pered zalom vspomnit' rol', Kak v yarosti stenayushchemu zveryu Na vremya pamyat' otshibaet bol', Tak ya, lyubovnik robkij, pozabyl, Kak vazhen kurtuaznyj ritual. Ispolnen chuvstv, pochti lishivshis' sil, YA vse slova pozorno rasteryal. O, vzglyad moj, bud' zhe gromche i bogache Vseh slov, chto v serdce udalos' sberech'; Ishchi lyubvi i trebuj vmig otdachi Nastojchivej, chem mozhet ch'ya-to rech'. Uchis' chitat' nemye pis'mena: Glazami slyshit lish' lyubov' odna. XXIV Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled, Thy beauty's form in table of my heart, My body is the frame wherein 'tis held, And perspective it is best painter's art. For through the painter must you see his skill, To find where your true image pictured lies, Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still, That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes: Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done, Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art, They draw but what they see, know not the heart. 24 Srisovyvat' tebya ya ne ustal Na holst dushi moej mazkom galantnym I sam stal ramoj etogo holsta. Kartina - dokazatel'stvo talanta. Risunki sohranyayutsya v tvorce, I ne ponyaten zamysel do sroka. Moi visyat napravo, na torce, V moej dushe, gde ochi vmesto okon. Kakaya vse zhe zren'e blagodat'! Tvoi glaza - mne vnutr' tebya okonca; Moi nuzhny, chtob druga risovat' I chtob chrez nih tebe svetilo solnce. Vse zh v zhivopisi im ne vse dano: CHto risovat', kogda v dushe temno? XXV Let those who are in favour with their stars, Of public honour and proud titles boast, Whilst I whom fortune of such triumph bars Unlooked for joy in that I honour most; Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread, But as the marigold at the sun's eye, And in themselves their pride lies buried, For at a frown they in their glory die. The painful warrior famoused for fight, After a thousand victories once foiled, Is from the book of honour razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toiled: Then happy I that love and am beloved Where I may not remove nor be removed. 25 Bogach, kumir, ministr, aristokrat - Pust' hvastayut oni, a ya ne budu: YA u Sud'by vsegda lezhal pod spudom, V bezvestnosti tvoej lyubvi ya rad. Kak nogotki, sogretye sud'boyu, V luchah kupayas' solnca zolotyh, Sojdut v mogilu gordye geroi: Hmur syuzeren - i gde gerojstvo ih? Pri neudache, slave vopreki, Sedoj voyaka vseh nagrad lishen Po manoven'yu carstvennoj ruki; Zabyt navechno, slovno strashnyj son. YA vseh vel'mozh schastlivej v sotni raz: Lyublyu, lyubim, nikto mne ne ukaz. XXVI Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit; To thee I send this written embassage To witness duty, not to show my wit. Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it; But that I hope some good conceit of thine In thy soul's thought (all naked) will bestow it: Till whatsoever star that guides my moving, Points on me graciously with fair aspect, And puts apparel on my tattered loving, To show me worthy of thy sweet respect, Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee, Till then, not show my head where thou mayst prove me. 26 O, gosudar', kolenopreklonenno, Dan' sovershenstvam zaplativ spolna, Vruchaet tvoj vassal sej stih smirenno Kak znak sluzhen'ya dolgu - ne uma. Moj dolg velik, a razum ogranichen, Ne hvatit slov ego zhivopisat', No l'shchu sebya nadezhdoj, chto ty lichno Dodumaesh', chto ya ne smog skazat'. I, mozhet byt', proyavit blagosklonnost' Ko mne zvezda, chto sverhu mne svetit I priodenet tak moyu vlyublennost', CHtob svitu ne smutil lohmot'ev vid. Togda b lyubov'yu hvastat'sya ya mog, A tak - zakroyu rot svoj na zamok! XXVII Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear respose for limbs with travel tired, But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body's work's expired. For then my thoughts (from far where I abide) Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see. Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which like a jewel (hung in ghastly night) Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new. Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for my self, no quiet find. 27 Ustav za den', speshu prilech' v krovat', Ot stranstvij otdyh predostavit' telu, Odnako mozg sovsem ne hochet spat', Stremya menya v mechtah k drugim predelam. Mechty, raspraviv kryl'ya v tot zhe chas K tebe vlekut menya, prezrev pokoj, Palomnikom. Ne v silah smezhit' glaz, Vsyu noch' vperyayus' v temen', kak slepoj, S toj raznicej, chto ishchushchij moj vzglyad Tebya uzret' sposoben sred' tenej. Tvoj lik luchistyj - chistyj brilliant, CHto sumrak nochi delaet svetlej. I nayavu, i v snah puskayus' v put': Ne splyu, i drugu ne dayu usnut'. XXVIII How can I then return in happy plight That am debarred the benefit of rest? When day's oppression is not eased by night, But day by night and night by day oppressed. 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-complexioned night, When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even. But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer, And night doth nightly make griefs length seem stronger. 28 I kak zhe dnem vse mozhet byt' v poryadke, Kogda mne ne usnut' vo t'me nochnoj? Ot dnya trudov vo sne mne net razryadki, Ot snov nochnyh - gde dnem dostat' pokoj? Speshat zaklyatye vragi Svet s T'moyu Menya pytat', drug druga vozlyubya, Dnevnoj rabotoj i mechtoj nochnoyu; YA v mukah umirayu bez tebya. Mne ih toboj ne ublazhit' nikak: Ty - den' licom, glaza - zvezdam pod stat' I, esli nebo skroyut oblaka, Gotov ty dnem svetit', v nochi - blistat'. Hot' dnem nevynosima grust', za neyu Prihodit noch', chtob ya grustil sil'nee. XXIX When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon my self and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least, Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, (Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate, For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings. 29 Kogda odin, u schast'ya ne v favore, YA, kak izgoj, u vremeni v plenu Vzyvayu k nebu v bezotvetnom gore I zhizn' svoyu, i sam sebya klyanu, No zhazhdu sily, krasoty bez mery, Hochu kutit', druz'yami okruzhen, Blistat' talantom, rvat' plody kar'ery, Imet' vse to, chego vsyu zhizn' lishen; Togda zhe, preziraem sam soboyu, Lish' tol'ko vspomnyu ya tvoi glaza, Vzletayu vvys', otrinuv vse zemnoe, CHtob zhavoronkom slavit' nebesa. Mne mysl' o tom, chto ya lyubim, milej Beschislennyh sokrovishch korolej. XXX When to the sessions of sweet silent thought, I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: Then can I drown an eye (unused to flow) For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe, And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight. Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee (dear friend) All losses are restored, and sorrows end. 30 Kogda povestkoj vyzyvayu v zal Sudebnyj na dopros vospominan'ya, Mne yasno: ne sbylos', o chem mechtal, I tshchetny po proshedshim dnyam stenan'ya. Mogu lish' posle sleznyh apellyacij Pochtit' ushedshih dorogih druzej, Oplakat' nizkij kurs lyubovnyh akcij, Prosrochennye vekselya skorbej, Pogorevat' nad gorem pozabytym, K bede bedu priplyusovat' v itog, Vesti uchet otmolennym molitvam, Vnov' oplatit' oplachennoe v srok. A vspomnyu pro tebya - i snova rad: Poteri mne vozmeshcheny stokrat. XXXI Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, Which I by lacking have supposed dead, And there reigns love and all love's loving parts, And all those friends which I thought buried. How many a holy and obsequious tear Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye, As interest of the dead, which now appear, But things removed that hidden in thee lie. Thou art the grave where buried love doth live, Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, Who all their parts of me to thee did give, That due of many, now is thine alone. Their images I loved, I view in thee, And thou (all they) hast all the all of me. 31 Ty mne tem blizhe, chem v tvoej grudi Sil'nej stuchat serdca druzej lyubimyh; Sosudy soobshchayutsya lyubvi, A znachit, vse oplakannye zhivy. Za eti gody okeanam slez Nad nimi bylo suzhdeno prolit'sya; No slezy - eto tol'ko malyj vznos, A kapital v tvoej grudi hranitsya. Ty - sklep nezhnejshih chuvstv moih druzej, Kotorye, v sebe menya leleya, Potom otdali vse svoi trofei, CHtob vse slilos' v odnom - tebe. Lyubimyh prezhnih blesk v glazah tvoih I sam ya tozhe tvoj, a znachit - ih. XXXII If thou survive my well-contented day, When that churl death my bones with dust shaft cover And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover: Compare them with the bett'ring of the time, And though they be outstripped by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, Exceeded by the height of happier men. O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought, 'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age, A dearer birth than this his love had brought To march in ranks of better equipage: But since he died and poets better prove, Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love'. 32 Ty budesh' zhit', kogda pridet moj srok I ya sojdu v smertel'nyj mrak mogily. Perechitaj togda hot' paru strok Iz virshej, chto pisal tebe tvoj milyj. Ne plach', chto izmenilis' vremena, YAviv na svet talantlivye per'