Уильям Шексир. Сонет 10 Оригинал, несколько переводов на русский язык, аудиозапись на английском языке. William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 10, read by Jamie Muffett. X For shame deny that thou bear’st love to any Who for thy self art so unprovident. 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 … Читать далее →

Уильям Шексир. Сонет 151 CLI Love is too young to know what conscience is, Yet who knows not conscience is born of love? Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove. For, thou betraying me, I do betray My nobler part to my gross body’s treason: My soul doth tell my body that he may Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason; But rising at thy name doth point out thee As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, He is contented thy poor drudge to be, To stand in thy … Читать далее →

Уильям Шексир. Сонет 66 LXVI Tired with all these, for restful death I cry: As to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimmed in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly (doctor-like) controlling skill, And simple truth miscalled simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill: Tired with all these, from these would I he gone, Save that, to die, I leave my love alone. William Shakespeare (1564-1616) Сонет 66 Зову … Читать далее →

Уильям Шексир. Сонет 13 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 … Читать далее →