I vetv' oliv narodam mir neset. Nezabyvaemye te sobyt'ya, Kropya menya svoim svyatym dozhdem, Smert' popirayut - v rifmah budu zhit' ya: Zabvenie - udel nemyh plemen. I ty shagnesh' k potomkam, drug poeta, A vse gerby tiranov kanut v Letu. CVIII What's in the brain that ink may character Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit? What's new to speak, what new to register, That may express my love or thy dear merit? Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine, I must, each day say o'er the very same, Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine, Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name. So that eternal love in love's fresh case Weighs not the dust and injury of age, Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place, But makes antiquity for aye his page, Finding the first conceit of love there bred Where time and outward form would show it dead. 108 Net, mysli ni odnoj ne nazovu ya, CHto by v chernila ne oblek poet; Iz prelestej svoih voz'mi lyubuyu - I ej uzhe byl posvyashchen sonet. No, vse prezrev, ya povtoryayu snova, Stihi smeshav s molitvami svyatymi: YA tvoj, ty moj, tvoe svyatitsya imya: Slova privychny, tol'ko chuvstva novy. Lyubvi izvechnoj v mire bystrotechnom Rumyanec il' morshchiny - vse odno: Ona plyuet na starost' besserdechno I, kak yunca, gonyaet za vinom. Ej mesto ugotovila molva, Gde smert' i tlen. An, vse zh ona zhiva. CIX O, never say that I was false of heart, Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify. As easy might I from myself depart As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie: That is my home of love: if I have ranged, Like him that travels I return again, Just to the time, not with the time exchanged, So that myself bring water for my stain. Never believe, though in my nature reign'd All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, That it could so preposterously be stain'd, To leave for nothing all thy sum of good; For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all. 109 O! ne vini v izmene verolomnoj Togo, kto chut' ostyl, tebya lyubya; S toboj rasstat'sya tak zhe tyazhelo mne, Kak s glavnoj chast'yu samogo sebya. Gde b ni brodil, vsegda vernus' domoj, Tuda, gde ya lyubim toboj ponyne, I smoyu gryaz' ostavshejsya v kuvshine Svyatym otcom podarennoj vodoj. Proshu tebya: ne ver'! Otrin' somnen'ya, YA chist, hot' i ne golubyh krovej; YA ne otdam tolpe na razgrablen'e Sokrovishcha, chto mne vsego milej. Rozan dushi, prekrasnyj moj kumir, Mne mir - nichto, ty sam mne - celyj mir. CX Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there And made myself a motley to the view, Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, Made old offences of affections new; Most true it is that I have look'd on truth Askance and strangely: but, by all above, These blenches gave my heart another youth, And worse essays proved thee my best of love. Now all is done, have what shall have no end: Mine appetite I never more will grind On newer proof, to try an older friend, A god in love, to whom I am confined. Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best, Even to thy pure and most most loving breast. 110 SHutom nashastalsya po miru, kayus'! Napropaluyu vral, chto bylo sil: Rasprodaval, s cenoyu ne schitayas', Lyubvi izmenoj rany nanosil. Da, pravda, chto mne pravda ne po nravu; YA znayu, chto izmena - tyazhkij greh, Hotya nevernost' vse-taki priprava, Naevshis', ponyal: drug moj luchshe vseh. Da bud', chto budet! Pogulyav bespechno, YA obuzdayu k priklyuchen'yam appetit I nikogda... Pust' Bog menya prostit: Ty - bog lyubvi i ya tvoj rab navechno. Pusti brodyagu bludnogo opyat', Prechistye koleni obnimat'. CXI O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand: Pity me then and wish I were renew'd; Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection No bitterness that I will bitter think, Nor double penance, to correct correction. Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye Even that your pity is enough to cure me. 111 Ty prav, moj drug, Sud'bu moyu korya, Za to, chto ya dostoinstv ne imeyu. CHto trebovat' ot nishchego menya, Potehi nishchih tolp, ot licedeya? S professii ne smyt' greha klejmo - Popytkam tshchetnym shchedro otdal dan' ya; Krasil'shchik chistym byt' by vryad li mog: Proshu, otmoj mne imya sostradan'em. YA bolen proshlym i primu, lechas', I zhelch', i uksus - lish' by ne bolezni; YA gorech' sladkoj nazovu totchas, A styd dvojnoj mne lish' vdvojne poleznej. Menya, o drug moj milyj, pozhalej: Tvoe uchast'e vseh lekarstv sil'nej. CXII Your love and pity doth the impression fill Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow; For what care I who calls me well or ill, So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow? You are my all the world, and I must strive To know my shames and praises from your tongue: None else to me, nor I to none alive, That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong. In so profound abysm I throw all care Of others' voices, that my adder's sense To critic and to flatterer stopped are. Mark how with my neglect I do dispense: You are so strongly in my purpose bred That all the world besides methinks are dead. 112 Lyubov' i zhalost' skryli uglublen'ya, CHto vyzhglo mne na lbu molvy tavro. Ty lechish' rany, delaya dobro - CHto mne togda kakoj-to cherni mnen'e? Ty mne - ves' mir. YA iz tvoih rechej Pojmu svoi udachi i oshibki. Ty - moj, mne vse chuzhie, ya - nichej, S lyud'mi upryamyj, lish' s toboyu gibkij. YA v propast' brosil gnusnyh spleten sor I, kak gluhar', ogloh ili zmeya - Ni pohvalu ne slyshu, ni ukor; Vse ochen' prosto ob®yasnyayu ya: Tak yasno ty vo mne zapechatlen, CHto bezrazlichno, mir est' yav' il' son. CXIII Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind; And that which governs me to go about Doth part his function and is partly blind, Seems seeing, but effectually is out; For it no form delivers to the heart Of bird of flower, or shape, which it doth latch: Of his quick objects hath the mind no part, Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch: For if it see the rudest or gentlest sight, The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature, The mountain or the sea, the day or night, The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature: Incapable of more, replete with you, My most true mind thus makes mine eye untrue. 113 S teh samyh por, kak ya tebya pokinul, Ne zren'em, a dushoyu vizhu svet. Orlinyj vzor oslep napolovinu: Posmotrish' - vidit, priglyadish'sya - net. Vzglyad s mozgom vse snosheniya prerval, Ne otlichit ot vorona buton; Gde byl mostok - teper' bol'shoj proval: Uvidennyj predmet ne vidit on. Luch krasoty ili urodstva ten', Staruh il' dev, detej il' p'yanic lica, Morya i gory, zvezdy, noch' i den', - On vse v tvoi cherty oblech' stremitsya. Toboyu poln, pod gruzom tyazhkih dum, Glaza zastavit lgat' pravdivyj um. CXIV Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you, Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery? Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true, And that your love taught it this alchemy, To make of monsters and things indigest Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble, Creating every bad a perfect best, As fast as objects to his beams assemble? 0,'tis the first; 'tis flattery in my seeing, And my great mind most kingly drinks it up: Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing, And to his palate doth prepare the cup: If it be poison'd, 'tis the lesser sin That mine eye loves it and doth first begin. 114 Il' razum p'et, vozvyshennyj toboyu Vino monarhov - sladkoj lesti yad, To li glaza mne pravdu govoryat, No obladayut vlast'yu koldovskoyu Iz monstrov, naselyayushchih Aid, Vayat' tebe podobnyh heruvimov, Urodstvu pridavaya Bozhij vid, Lish' tol'ko glaz luchi ego obnimut. Skoree - pervoe. Mne lest' smutila vzor I korolevskuyu moj razum p'et otravu: So znan'em prigotovlen byl rastvor, CHtob mozgu byl po vkusu i po nravu; A kol' otravlen on - tem men'she greh: Glaza nal'yutsya yadom ran'she vseh. CXV Those lines that I before have writ do lie, Even those that said I could not love you dearer: Yet then my judgment knew no reason why My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer. But reckoning time, whose million'd accidents Creep in 'twixt vows and change decrees of kings, Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents, Divert strong minds to the course of altering things; Alas, why, fearing of time's tyranny, Might I not then say 'Now I love you best,' When I was certain o'er incertainty, Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? Love is a babe; then might I not say so, To give full growth to that which still doth grow? 115 V stihah svoih tebe ya lgal nevol'no, CHto chuvstv moih sil'nee byt' ne mozhet: Otkuda znat' ya mog, samodovol'nyj, Kak yarko suzhdeno im vspyhnut' pozzhe. Sobytij milliony, vse poprav, Smetayut klyatv, zakonov ulozhen'ya; Tuskneet krasota, myagchaet nrav, Upryamyj um svoe menyaet mnen'e. CHto ya lyublyu sil'nej, chem budu vpred', Krichal togda ya gromche vseh na svete I dumal: "Den' segodnyashnij, kak tverd', A zavtrashnij - izmenchiv, slovno veter". Buton lyubvi, kak mne b on ni byl mil, Cvetkom nazvat' ya, kayus', pospeshil. CXVI Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 116 Ne mozhet byt' soyuzu dush prepyatstvij. Odno proshchu: lyubov'yu ne zovi To chuvstvo, chto sposobno izmenyat'sya, Kogda tvoj drug ustanet ot lyubvi. Lyubov' - kak navigacionnyj znak, Nedvizhna pod poryvom uragana, Ee kvadrantom ishchet kazhdyj bark, Ona yarka, no sut' ee tumanna. Pri Vremeni dvore Lyubov' ne shut. Tam serp s kosoj srezayut vse zhivoe, I lish' ee stolet'ya ne sotrut - Po Sudnyj den' ostat'sya suzhdeno ej. A esli ya ne prav i net mne very, Togda i vse moi stihi - himery. CXVII Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all Wherein I should your great deserts repay, Forgot upon your dearest love to call, Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day; That I have frequent been with unknown minds And given to time your own dear-purchased right That I have hoisted sail to all the winds Which should transport me farthest from your sight. Book both my wilfulness and errors down And on just proof surmise accumulate; Bring me within the level of your frown, But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate; Since my appeal says I did strive to prove The constancy and virtue of your love. 117 Rugaj menya, skazhi, chto ya ne smog Dostojno zaplatit' za kazhdyj vzglyad tvoj, CHto ya tvoej lyubov'yu prenebreg, Hot' byl s toboj naveki svyazan klyatvoj; CHto chasto to chuzhim daril dosug, Ot vstrech s toboj ego, kak vor, kradya; To proch' po vetru otpravlyalsya vdrug, Nesomyj parusami ot tebya. Sochti moi grehi i pregreshen'ya I v delo oprihoduj ih skorej; Pricel'sya hmurym vzorom osuzhden'ya, Lish' nenavist'yu tol'ko ne ubej, Togda moya vostorzhestvuet vera, CHto sovershenstvo druga - ne himera. CXVIII Like as, to make our appetites more keen, With eager compounds we our palate urge, As, to prevent our maladies unseen, We sicken to shun sickness when we purge, Even so, being tuff of your ne'er-cloying sweetness, To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meetness To be diseased ere that there was true needing. Thus policy in love, to anticipate The ills that were not, grew to faults assured And brought to medicine a healthful state Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cured: But thence I learn, and find the lesson true, Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you,? 118 My raduemsya gorechi priprav I imi vozbuzhdaem appetit; Nas toshnotoj ot yada zashchitit Na tom piru nastoj iz gor'kih trav. O, pritornaya strast' tvoej lyubvi - Ne smyt' ee mne gor'kim poloskan'em! Mne b zabolet', chtoby lechit' svoi Nedugi hinoj s polnym osnovan'em. Uzh eto mne lyubovnoe kovarstvo: Zdorovogo terzat', chto bylo sil; Propisyvat' emu greha lekarstvo, CHtob o bolezni on svoej zabyl. YA ponyal na sebe: lekarstvo - yad, Kogda dusha i mozg toboj bolyat. CXIX That potions have I drunk of Siren tears, Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within, Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears, Still losing when I saw myself to win! What wretched errors hath my heart committed, Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never! How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted In the distraction of this madding fever! O benefit of ill! now I find true That better is by evil still made better; And ruin'd love, when it is built anew, Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater. So I return rebuked to my content And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent. 119 Nastoj iz slez siren glotal v bredu ya Byl adskim zharom zakopchen fial. Kak ya stradal, strah s veroj chereduya, To nahodil, to snova vse teryal! Oshibkami moj put' byval izryt, A ya, bespechnyj, radovalsya zhizni; Kak strashno vylezali iz orbit Moi glaza v bezumstva paroksizme! Kto govorit, chto zlo vo blago, prav: Dobro dobree gore sdelat' mozhet. Lyubov', iz pepla Feniksom vosstav, Stanovitsya prekrasnee i tverzhe. K tebe vernus', smyagchiv lyubov'yu styd: Mne zlo poteri vtroe vozmestit. SHH That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow which I then did feel Needs must I under my transgression bow, Unless my nerves were brass or hammer'd steel. For if you were by my unkindness shaken As I by yours, you've pass'd a hell of time, And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken To weigh how once I suffered in your crime. O, that our night of woe might have remember'd My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits, And soon to you, as you to me, then tender'd The humble slave which wounded bosoms fits! But that your trespass now becomes a fee; Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me. 120 C tvoim nepostoyanstvom primiren, YA ne zabyl, v kakoj ya byl pechali, I tozhe povinyus' v grehe svoem, Poskol'ku, vse zhe, sdelan ne iz stali. Kol' ya tebya potryas izmenoj, drug, Kak ty menya, sej ad ya ponimayu, A to mne bylo vspomnit' nedosug, Kak ty menya izmuchil, predavaya! Noch' nashih bed napomnila nevol'no, Kak sil'no postradal ya ot obid; I ya, kak ty, kogda mne bylo bol'no, Raskayan'em pomazhu, gde bolit. Den'gami stal prostupok tvoj zabytyj: Ty platish' mne, a ya - tebe. My kvity. CXXI 'T is better to be vile than vile esteem'd, When not to be receives reproach of being, And the just pleasure lost which is so deem'd Not by our feeling but by others' seeing: For why should others false adulterate eyes Give salutation to my sportive blood? Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, Which in their wills count bad what I think good? No, I am that I am, and they that level At my abuses reckon up their own: I may be straight, though they themselves be bevel; By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown; Unless this general evil they maintain, All men are bad, and in their badness reign. 121 Byt' greshnikom priyatnej, bez somnen'ya, CHem dobrodetel' vynosit' na sud: O nashej chistote chuzhoe mnen'e Vmig razbivaet radosti sosud. Kakogo cherta pohotlivyj vzglyad Moej obespokoen zhizni tokom? Ne angely l' s nebes za mnoj sledyat, CHto shalosti im kazhutsya porokom? Hanzhi, zabyv sovsem, chto ya est' ya, Mne vraz svoi pripishut prestuplen'ya; Ih dushi krivy, slovno venzelya, YA ves' v gryazi s ih gryaznoj tochki zren'ya. V grehe oni podozrevayut vseh I eto tol'ko im prisushchij greh. CXXII Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain Full character'd with lasting memory, Which shall above that idle rank remain Beyond all date, even to eternity; Or at the least, so long as brain and heart Have faculty by nature to subsist; Till each to razed oblivion yield his part Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd. That poor retention could not so much hold, Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score; Therefore to give them from me was I bold, To trust those tables that receive thee more: To keep an adjunct to remember thee Were to import forgetfulness in me. 122 Zalog lyubvi ya poteryal bespechno - Listki, v tetradku sshitye toboj, No mysli vse ravno vsegda so mnoj - Tebya i tak ya budu pomnit' vechno, Pokuda ne podarit providen'e Mne v starosti lekarstvo zabyt'ya, Ty vyzhivesh' i izbezhish' zabven'ya - Umom i serdcem budu pomnit' ya. Dlya etogo mne ne nuzhny stranicy; Ne podschitayut schety nashu druzhbu: Moej dushe voobshche stranic ne nuzhno - V nej obraz tvoj naveki sohranitsya. "Dlya pamyati" ischerkannyj listok - V zabyvchivosti vetrenoj uprek. CXXIII No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; They are but dressings of a former sight. Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire What thou dost foist upon us that is old, And rather make them born to our desire Than think that we before have heard them told. Thy registers and thee I both defy, Not wondering at the present nor the past, For thy records and what we see doth lie, Made more or less by thy continual haste. This I do vow and this shall ever be; I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee. 123 Net, Vremya, ne hvalis', chto ya stareyu: Gromady tvoih yunyh piramid V moih glazah niskol'ko ne novee, CHem etot plashch, chto trizhdy pereshit. I kazhdyj voshitit'sya budet rad Naspeh perelicovannym star'em; Obman my ne zametit' predpochtem, CHem znat', chto eto antikvariat. Ne veryu, Vremya, ya tvoim skrizhalyam, Vser'ez ih primet tol'ko idiot: Nam v zhizni tak vsegda arhivy lgali, Kak ty nam lzhesh', vsegda spesha vpered. YA budu veren Istine. Klyanus', Pod Vremeni serpom ne izmenyus'. CXXIV If my dear love were but the child of state, It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd' As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate, Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather'd. No, it was builded far from accident; It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls Under the blow of thralled discontent, Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls: It fears not policy, that heretic, Which works on leases of short-number'd hours, But all alone stands hugely politic, That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with showers. To this I witness call the fools of time, Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime. 124 Byla b lyubov' sirotkoj providen'ya, Poveleval by ej surovyj rok, Sud'ba vplela b bednyazhku v svoj venok Cvetkom il' sornyakom - po nastroen'yu. No net! Sluchajnosti protivny ej; Ona opalu perenosit gordo, Ne myaknet ot ulybki korolej, Ej vse ravno, chto vydumaet moda; Ej ne strashny ni burya, ni metel', Smeshat ee politikanov strasti; Pred nej odnoj otkryta zhizni cel', Nichto nad neyu ne imeet vlasti. V svideteli tomu zovu ya teh, Kto smert'yu pravoj iskupil svoj greh. CXXV Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy, With my extern the outward honouring, Or laid great bases for eternity, Which prove more short than waste or ruining? Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent, For compound sweet forgoing simple savour, Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent? No, let me be obsequious in thy heart, And take thou my oblation, poor but free, Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art, But mutual render, only me for thee. Hence, thou suborn'd informer! a true soul When most impeach'd stands least in thy control. 125 Nesya nad syuzerenom baldahin, Ukrashu l' svitu pyshnym pozumentom? Reshu l' v svoej gordyne stat' bessmertnym, Poznav, chto vechnost' - tol'ko tlen ruin? Zabudu l' yudol' prizhivalov vlasti, CHto, kak v shelkah, - v dolgah, lishency prav, I, hleb prostoj prezrev, tak lyubyat slasti, Pregor'kij zhrebij dlya sebya izbrav? Net! Belosnezhny pomysly moi. Vse, chem bogat, - vino i hleb moj bednyj Kladu ya na altar' svoej lyubvi I zhdu vzamen slova lyubvi otvetnoj. A ty, lukavyj, sily b pobereg: CHem ternii ostrej, tem blizhe Bog. CXXVI O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold lime's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st Thy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow'st; If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack, As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back, She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill. Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure! She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure: Her audit, though delay'd, answer'd must be, And her quietus is to render thee. 126 Ty Vremeni sil'nee, mal'chik moj: Ono ne vlastno nad tvoej krasoj. My vse, vzrosleya, priblizhaem smert' - Tebe cvesti, tvoim druz'yam - staret'. I, kol' tebya ot Vremeni obid Priroda hot' na vremya zashchitit, To lish' zatem, chtob pomnilo odno: Tem, kto sil'nej ego, ono posramleno. Strashis' ee nepostoyannoj voli; Vse eto - lish' rassrochka i ne bole, Prirode Vremya svoj pred®yavit schet: Tvoya krasa, moj drug, pojdet v zachet. CXXVII In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; But now is black beauty's successive heir, And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame: For since each hand hath put on nature's power, Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd face, Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower, But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace. Therefore my mistress' brows are raven black, Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack, Slandering creation with a false esteem: Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe, That every tongue says beauty should look so. 127 Cvet chernyj nizkim mir vsegda schital, Cvet belyj sovershenstva byl osnovoj, No nyne ochernili ideal V pryamom i perenosnom smysle slova. Krasavicy prirodnyj pravyat cvet Rumyanami, sur'moyu, ne boyas', CHto uzh u Krasoty i doma net - I predan ideal, i vtoptan v gryaz'. Vlasy moej lyubimoj - ebonit, Glaza cherneyut plamenem prekrasnym, Kak budto traur nosyat po neschastnym, CHej cvet lica pod kraskoyu sokryt. No dazhe v traure prekrasna ty - I bredit mir krasoyu chernoty. CXXVIII How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st, Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand! To be so tickled, they would change their state And situation with those dancing chips, O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, Making dead wood more blest than living lips. Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss. 128 Lish' tol'ko ty, dushi akkord prelestnyj, Kosnesh'sya polirovannogo dreva I drognut pal'cy tonkie nesmelo, I ya uslyshu vnov' motiv izvestnyj, Kak, k cherno-belym klavisham revnuya, CHto mogut celovat' tvoi persty, Usta, leleya smelye mechty, Zardeyut v ozhidan'i poceluya. Oni so zvuchnym derevom mestami Gotovy obmenyat'sya v tot zhe mig, Poskol'ku sami klavikordy stali Pod laskami zhivee gub zhivyh. A esli ne sud'ba, otdaj, proshu ya, Im - pal'cy, mne - usta dlya poceluya. CXXIX The expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust m action; and till action, lust Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame, Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight, Past reason hunted, and no sooner had Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait On purpose laid to make the taker mad; Mad in pursuit and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream. All this the world well knows; yet none knows well To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. 129 Priyut greha, rastrata sil dushi - Vot chto takoe pohot' v golom vide; Ona zachata v gore i obide, V krovavom skotstve, grubosti i lzhi. Kak kratok vozhdeleniya poryv! Iz ran eshche ne vytashchiv klinka, Ono uzh, slovno ryba, zaglotiv Primanku, nenavidit chervyaka. ZHelaj, imej, shodi s uma nochami, Zabud' prilich'ya - zhalok zhrebij tvoj: Pik radosti vlechet ekstaz pechali, O schast'e son ostanetsya mechtoj. Vse znayut lyudi, vse ravno speshat Izvedat' raj, chto ih privodit v ad. CXXX 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. 130 Ee glaza na solnce ne pohozhi, A guby cvetom - vovse ne korall; I grudi bely, no ne snezhno vse zhe, I lokon chernyj - net, ne ideal. S damasskoj rozoj nezhnoj, belo-krasnoj Lyubimoj shchek ne sporit krasota; K chemu tverdit' pro zapah ust prekrasnyj, Kol' ne fialkoj pahnet izo rta? Rech' miloj, hot' dlya uha i priyatna, Po tembru - daleko ne arfy zvuk; Paryat, kak puh, bogini, veroyatno, - Ee zhe sled pechataet kabluk. Mezh tem, ona prekrasnej, bez somnen'ya, Krasavic teh, o kom nam lgut sravnen'ya. CXXXI Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For welt thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel. Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold Thy face hath not the power to make love groan: To say they err I dare not be so bold, Although I swear it to myself alone. And, to be sure that is not false I swear, A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face, One on another's neck, do witness bear Thy black is fairest in my judgment's place. In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds, And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds. 131 Ty tak zhe, milaya, cherstva dushoj, Kak te krasotki, ch'i serdca, kak kamni, No bredit serdce glupoe toboj - Kak kamen' dragocennyj ty mila mne. Pust' zlye yazyki vokrug tverdyat, CHto smuglost'yu lyubov' vnushit' ne mozhno; Otkryto vozrazhu ya im navryad, Hot' chuvstvuyu, chto utverzhden'e lozhno. Klyanus', ya prav. Podrugu vspominaya, Kakih stradanij ya ne perenes, No vse sterpel, zato uzh tochno znayu: Svetlee dnya mne noch' tvoih volos. Otrinu lozh', vosled lyubimoj glyadya: CHerny ee postupki, a ne pryadi. CXXXII Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain, Have put on black and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. And truly not the morning sun of heaven Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, Nor that full star that ushers in the even Doth half that glory to the sober west, As those two mourning eyes become thy face: O, let it then as well beseem thy heart To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace, And suit thy pity like in every part. Then will I swear beauty herself is black And all they foul that thy complexion lack. 132 Moim glazam menya kak budto zhal': Oni, ponyav, skol' muchim ya toboyu, Smyagchayut bol' moyu lyubov'yu i toskoyu, Kak traur nosyat chernuyu vual'. Lyublyu ih: dazhe solnce ne vsegda Soboyu ukrashaet tak voshod, I zapadu vechernemu zvezda Nichut' ne bol'she bleska pridaet, CHem li