Сонеты

Those hours, that with gentle work did frame
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell,
Will play the tyrants to the very same,
And that un-fair which fairly doth excel:

For never-resting Time leads summer on
To hideous winter, and confounds him there,
Sap checked with frost
                    and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o’er-snowed and bareness everywhere.

Then, were not summer’s distillation left
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beauty’s effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it nor no remembrance what it was.

But flowers distilled,
                    though they with winter meet,
Lose but their show;
                    their substance still lives sweet.

6. «Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface…»

Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled:
Make sweet some vial; treasure
                    thou some place
With beauty’s treasure ere it be self-killed:

That use is not forbidden usury
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That’s for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier be it ten for one:

Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee.
Then what could death do
                    if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?

Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair
To be death’s conquest
                    and make worms thine heir.

7. «Lo in the orient when the gracious light…»

Lo in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under-eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks his sacred majesty;

And having climbed
                    the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling strong youth in his middle age,
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage:

But when from highmost pitch,
                              with weary car,
Like feeble age he reeleth from the day,
The eyes (fore duteous) now converted are
From his low tract and look another way:

So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon,
Unlooked on diest unless thou get a son.

10. «For shame! deny that thou bear’st love to any…»