116.
Ne dopusti pomeh k sblizhen'yu istin.
Lyubov', chto gn¸tsya, eto ne lyubov',
Otravlennyj rodnik ne stanet chistym,
Greh, razrushaya dushu, gubit krov':
Net, net! lyubov' - ogon', svyatoj trenozhnik,
Orientir nezyblemyj, zhivoj;
Zvezda, chej svet vzyskatel'nyj hudozhnik
Zrit v vyshine i pravit parus svoj.
Lyubov' - ne shut, ne vremenshchik obmannyj,
Vostryashchij serp lukavoyu rukoj:
Lyubov' podderzhkoj pomoshchi nezhdannoj
Ot gibeli spas¸t i smerti zloj.
A esli net, i lgut slova moi,
Umri, moj stih, raz net v tebe lyubvi.
117.
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.
Vini menya: v besplodnom razmyshlen'e
YA provodil, skupec, za dnyami dni,
Moej lyubvi okovannyj zabven'em,
Ne mog ya vybrat'sya iz zapadni;
Terzalsya chasto ya tyazhelym chuvstvom,
CHto parus ya poslushnyj podnimu,
A moj korabl' so skrezhetom i hrustom
Umchat vetra v nevedomuyu t'mu.
Moj greh najdi i lozhnye trevogi,
Pojmi ih smysl i opyt dorogoj;
Ispepeli menya, uchitel' strogij,
No ne kazni bezzhalostnoj rukoj;
K tebe vzyvayu, tv¸rdost' proyavi,
I silu dobrodetel'noj lyubvi.
118.
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 full 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.
Kak perec ostryj mnozhit appetit,
Nash vkus smeshen'em pylkim probuzhdaya,
I kak lekarstvo hvor' predotvratit,
Ot tyazhesti zheludok ochishchaya,
Tak ya pod sousom tvoim prekrasnym
Izmyslil stol, bogatyj i bol'shoj,
No presyshchen'em yastv raznoobraznyh
Teper' stradayu, pacient bol'noj.
Lyubov' hitra, ona preduprezhdaet
Voznikshej toshnotoj o silah zla,
I tem bol'nye sily iscelyaet,
ZHelaya nam zdorov'ya i dobra:
Tak ya uchus', i nahozhu urok,
Kak, prinimaya yad, lechit' porok.
119.
What 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.
Sireny sl¸zy pil ya mnogo raz,
Kak v peregonnom kube vs¸ kipelo,
Nadezhdy uzhas, upovan'ya gaz
Menya pugal, burlya v retorte smeloj!
O, skol'ko sora, serdce, ty vmestilo,
Poka leleyalo svoi mechty!
Bezumca glaz, kuda smotrel ty, milyj!
Zarazu etu kak ne videl ty!
O, benefis poter'! teper'-to znayu
Zlyh pomyslov prekrasnyj vinegret;
I potomu lyubov' ya ubivayu,
CHtob vozrodilsya e¸ chistyj svet.
Tak ya vernu sebe svoi poroki
I kazn'yu nagrazhu ya ih, zhestokij.
120.
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 salve which wounded bosoms fits!
But that your trespass now becomes a fee;
Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.
120.
Mne pomoshch' to, chto ty byl zol ko mne,
Lekarstvom bylo ogorchen'e eto,
YA byl gorbun s grehami na spine,
Grehom lish' nervy byli ne zadety.
Skvoz' vremya ty potryas moj gorb nedobryj
I u gorbatogo otnyal dosug,
I nyne ya, tiran uzhe bezgorbyj,
Cenyu postupok tvoj, moj dobryj drug.
O, skorbi noch', napomnila ty mne,
Kak tochnyj vypad gubit supostata,
I skoro ya udaryu v tishine
I izlechu tvoj gorb, kak ty kogda-to.
Itak, ya nagrazhu tebya bogato,
Platil ty mne, i vot gryad¸t rasplata.
121.
'Tis 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' podlym luchshe, chem lyubit' porok,
Togda ne upreknut tebya pozorom,
Sovsem ne vazhno, chto ty k chuvstvam strog,
Vazhnej kak mir ocenit strogim vzorom:
Zachem by miru lgat' i potakat'
Moim strastyam, izmenam i lukavstvu?
Na podlosti kto smozhet ukazat',
Esli vezde carit odno kovarstvo?
Net, ya est' ya, i mir branit menya
Protiv svoej prirody nesomnenno:
YA prav, moi nepravye druz'ya;
YA chist v delah pred chistoyu vselennoj;
Zlo vozvyshaya, vot vam vsem urok,
Plohie vse, raz carstvuet porok.
122.
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.
V mo¸m mozgu tvoj stol, tvoj dar bescennyj,
YA vse slova zapomnil, milyj drug,
So mnoyu budet slog tvoj vdohnovennyj,
Dazhe kogda ischeznet vs¸ vokrug;
Poka moj mozg i serdce sushchestvuyut,
Oni hranyat tvoj plamennyj urok;
A posle, prinimaya dan' zemnuyu,
Sebe ih prah voz'm¸t zemnoj chertog;
V zemnoj temnice grusti i zabven'ya
Net nichego, ni pravdy, ni lyubvi;
I potomu bez prezhnego somnen'ya
K slovam moim vniman'e proyavi:
Radi tebya, sebya gotov zabyt' ya,
Znaj, chto carevna-pamyat' spit v ukryt'e.
123.
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.
Ne nov, o Vremya, gordyj tvoj naryad:
Vozvodish' ty dvorcy i piramidy,
No kamni ih menya ne udivyat;
Ne udivyat ih vychurnye vidy.
Dni nashi korotki, i potomu
Nas voshishchayut drevnie svyatyni,
Navyazannye nashemu umu,
Svideteli slepoj tvoej gordyni.
Ih i tebya ya vyzyvayu, Vremya,
YA vyzyvayu na otkrytyj boj
Tvoih dvorcov prichudlivoe plemya,
Vozdvignutyh pospeshnoyu rukoj.
Klyanus' ya v tom, chto vechny eti stroki;
Prav budu ya, a ne tvoj serp, zhestokij.
124.
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.
Esli lyubov' moya est' sirota,
Sily sud'by zachem ego chernili,
Lyubim li on il' dal'she pustota,
Sornyak li on ili cvetok sred' gnili.
Net, ne sluchajno on rozhd¸n sud'boj;
On ne stradaet ot usmeshek znati,
Ni ot udarov strasti rokovoj
I izmenenij vremeni nekstati:
Dogmatov vlastnyh ne boitsya on,
CHasy kradushchih hitroyu ulovkoj,
Pust' dazhe mir ves' hitrost'yu plen¸n,
Oputav vs¸ pogibel'noj ver¸vkoj.
SHut i glupec u vremeni v petle,
Tot umer dlya dobra, kto zhil vo zle.
125.
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.
Est' chto-nibud' pod dobrym nebosvodom,
CHto my ostavim, obrashchayas' v prah,
I dolgo l' budet vechnaya priroda
Nas vspominat', i uzhas nash, i strah?
Razve zapomnil mir svoih lyubimcev,
Kto, uvlekayas' sobstvennoj igroj,
Rastalkival takih zhe prohodimcev,
Sily rastrativ v prihoti slepoj?
Pozvol', lyubov', mne serdcem stat' svobodnym,
I ritmom l¸gkim bit' v tvoej grudi,
Sor izgoni, hudozhnik blagorodnyj,
I sily dobrye k sebe vpusti.
Proch', iskus! i, ochistivshis' dushoj,
Ty stanesh' upravlyat' svoej sud'boj.
126.
O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
Dost hold Time'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.
Serp Vremeni ty znaesh', mal'chik moj,
I zerkalo Vrem¸n pered toboj;
Iz malogo, nichtozhnogo zerna
Ty vyros, i lyubov' tvoya sil'na;
Esli Priroda carstvennoj rukoyu
Tvoj dom razrushit i lishit pokoya,
Ona voznagradit tebya za trud
Ubijstvom prazdnyh i tupyh minut.
E¸ strashish'sya ty, e¸ lyubimchik!
No est' u nej, krome nozha, gostinchik:
V otsrochke platezha e¸ otvet,
Razgadka tajn i molodcu sovet.
127.
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.
Urodlivoj schitalas' chernota,
Nikto ne nazyval e¸ krasivoj;
No nyne izmenilas' krasota,
Plebej oklevetal e¸ spesivyj:
S teh por, kak rv¸t bezzhalostnoj rukoyu
Prekrasnye prirodnye cvety,
Stal hram prirodnyj nishchej masterskoyu,
I tot profan, ch'i pomysly chisty.
I potomu priroda ch¸rnoj tuchej,
Nahmuriv brovi, plachet vsyakij raz,
Ishod predvoshishchaya neminuchij
Klevetnika, istochnika prokaz:
I gor'ko plachut ch¸rnye potoki,
CHtob golos pravdy ne byl odinokij.
128.
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.
Kak chasto byl ya muzykoj vzvolnovan,
Rozhdal vostorg v grudi tvoj strojnyj zvuk,
Medvezh'e uho upoen'em novym
Vnimalo begu dragocennyh ruk,
Zavidoval ya klavisham klavira,
CHto mogut pal'cy nezhno celovat',
A ya, napolnennyj igroj kumira,
Mog tol'ko guby bednye kusat'!
YA zabavlyalsya divnoyu kartinoj
Ves¸lyh i tancuyushchih rebyat,
Volshebnyj tanec s pal'cem-balerinoj
Nespeshno v¸l galantnyj ih otryad.
Tak schastlivy oni, i nesprosta,
Otdaj im pal'chiki, a mne - usta.
129.
The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in 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.
K stydu, k utrate duha strast' ved¸t;
Obmana strast', ubijstva i zloslov'ya,
Nazhivy strast', somnenij tonkij l¸d,
Strast' grubosti, poteri hladnokrov'ya,
Vladeya maloj, no prezrennoj chest'yu,
Mechtu stremimsya uhvatit' rukoj,
No prizrak otvechaet ch¸rnoj mest'yu,
Otnyav u vozhdelennogo pokoj;
A strast' pogoni v nashem slabom vzore;
Sled ispravlyaet v vozduhe pustom;
Blazhenstvo ishchem, a nahodim gore;
Mirazh, snachala; ten' ego, potom.
Vse eto znayut; no ne znayut lish',
Kak svet nebesnyj v ad zov¸t i tish'.
130.
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.
Svet glaz lyubimyh solncu proigraet;
Korall zatmit soboj cvet alyh gub;
Blednee grud', chem sneg v al'pijskom krae;
U kolosistyh zlakov gibche chub;
Damasskih roz chudesnye butony
Nezhnee nezhnosti e¸ lanit;
Blagouhannyj zapah anemonov
Skorej, chem vzdoh lyubimoj op'yanit.
Lyublyu ya slushat' pen'e charovnicy,
No zvukov luchshih znayu volshebstvo;
U nimf prelestnej divnye resnicy;
A u bogin' izyashchnee chelo:
I vs¸ zhe, nebesa, lyubov' moya
Prekrasnej vseh, s kem sravnivayu ya.
131.
Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art,
As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel;
For well 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.
Tvoj obraz kak lik despota serdityj,
CHto muchit krasotoj zhestokih glaz;
Prekrasno znaesh', chto v moej grudi ty -
Izyskannyj i solnechnyj almaz.
Ceniteli iskusstva skazhut mne,
Vo vzore sily net, i malo sveta:
Ne smeyu vozrazit' ih boltovne,
Ne mne, druz'ya moi, sudit' ob etom.
No ya klyanus', net fal'shi v etom like,
Vglyadites', tysyachi, v cherty lica,
Najd¸tsya, mozhet byt', medved' bezlikij,
Kto razgadaet zamysel tvorca.
Tvoren'e ochernit' legko, byt' mozhet,
No chernota lish' klevetu umnozhit.
132.
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.
Lyublyu glaza tvoi, no, k sozhalen'yu,
I tvo¸ serdce znaet moyu bol',
Oni v pechali ishchut naslazhden'e,
Moih tiranov ispolnyaya rol'.
Ne tak li solnce nagloe s utra
Svoj blednyj disk risuet na vostoke,
Ne tak li polunochnaya pora
Vpivaet v dushu vzor svoj zvezdookij,
Ne tak li molnii prekrasnyh glaz:
O, opechal' menya, kak serdce prosit,
Sozhgi menya, pylayushchij almaz,
Pust' zlobnyj veter pepel moj unosit.
Tak ty zatmish' vseh ch¸rnoj krasotoyu,
I uspokoish' serdce zolotoe.
133.
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
For that deep wound it gives my friend and me!
Is't not enough to torture me alone,
But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?
Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,
And my next self thou harder hast engross'd:
Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken;
A torment thrice threefold thus to be cross'd.
Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward,
But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail;
Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard;
Thou canst not then use rigor in my gaol:
And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee,
Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.
133.
YA proklinayu serdce v toj grudi,
V kotoroj ya tomlyus' v gluhoj temnice!
I horosho by ya stradal odin,
Zachem moj drug kak rab nemoj tomitsya?
I on, i ya, naprasno my vzyvaem,
A vmeste s nami ne rozhd¸nnyj brat:
Zabyl ty nas, sebya ne uznavaya;
Utroiv vtroe bol' svoih utrat.
Moya tyur'ma v tvoej grudi zhestokoj,
No serdce druga pomogaet mne;
A ya - ohrannik druga svetlookij;
I ne zam¸rznut' mne v tvoej tyur'me:
Eshch¸ ya zhiv; no ya nevol'nik tvoj,
I vs¸ vo mne - tvo¸, muchitel' moj.
134.
So, now I have confess'd that he is thine,
And I myself am mortgaged to thy will,
Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine
Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still:
But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free,
For thou art covetous and he is kind;
He learn'd but surety-like to write for me
Under that bond that him as fast doth bind.
The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take,
Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use,
And sue a friend came debtor for my sake;
So him I lose through my unkind abuse.
Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me:
He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.
134.
Teper' priznayus', takzhe tvoj moj drug,
Tebe my sluzhim, v etom ya ruchayus',
V otvete ya za delo dobryh ruk,
Prodolzhit' delo druga postarayus':
Ne hochesh' ty, a drug ne mozhet moj,
Skupoj i zhadnyj ty, moj drug - nad¸zhnyj;
No ob®yasnil uchitel' dorogoj,
Kak nevozmozhnoe svyazat' s vozmozhnym.
Poskol'ku ty blistaesh' krasotoyu
I arenduesh' slavu molodca,
A on presleduet, prikryvshis' mnoyu;
Pozvol' ubit' negodnogo istca.
Ub'yu ego ya; ty potom dvoih:
V rasch¸te on, i ya nichej dolzhnik.
135.
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will,'
And 'Will' to boot, and 'Will' in overplus;
More than enough am I that vex thee still,
To thy sweet will making addition thus.
Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,
Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?
Shall will in others seem right gracious,
And in my will no fair acceptance shine?
The sea all water, yet receives rain still
And in abundance addeth to his store;
So thou, being rich in 'Will,' add to thy 'Will'
One will of mine, to make thy large 'Will' more.
Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill;
Think all but one, and me in that one 'Will.'
135.
U kuricy zhelan'e, a v tebe -
Est' "Volya", est' stremlenie i sila;
Nazlo moej neskladnoj boltovne
Ty gory sdvinesh' i zatmish' svetila.
Ty hochesh' stat' bol'shim i neob®yatnym,
Ili pogibnut' hochesh' v tishine?
Ty hochesh' videt' mir s licom opryatnym,
Il' hochesh', chtoby on sgorel v ogne?
Umnozh', groza, izbytok okeanov,
Smyvaya proch' istorii grehov;
Napolnis' strashnoj Volej uraganov,
Po Vole solnca i moih stihov.
Ostav' mol'by, stradan'ya, sl¸zy, splin;
Ispolnis' Voleyu, moj ispolin.
136.
If thy soul check thee that I come so near,
Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy 'Will,'
And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there;
Thus far for love my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.
'Will' will fulfil the treasure of thy love,
Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.
In things of great receipt with ease we prove
Among a number one is reckon'd none:
Then in the number let me pass untold,
Though in thy stores' account I one must be;
For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold
That nothing me, a something sweet to thee:
Make but my name thy love, and love that still,
And then thou lovest me, for my name is 'Will.'
136.
Kol' dushu svoevol'em ya stesnil,
Klyanus', tvoya dusha dala mne pravo,
YA lish' potvorstvoval po mere sil;
I ispolnyal lyubimye zabavy.
YA sberegal sokrovishcha lyubvi,
YA zhil odnim zhelan'em ohranen'ya.
YA ne schital velikij klad svoim,
I ne schital nesch¸tnye kamen'ya:
Skol' klad velik, pozvol' mne umolchat',
Hotya zhelan'e rasskazat' ogromno;
No on ves' tvoj, i dazhe malu pyad'
YA ne mogu prisvoit' verolomno:
Lyubov' est' klyuch, hochu, chtob klad otkryl,
Poskol'ku Volya - eto imya Uill.
137.
Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes,
That they behold, and see not what they see?
They know what beauty is, see where it lies,
Yet what the best is take the worst to be.
If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks
Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride,
Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks,
Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied?
Why should my heart think that a several plot
Which my heart knows the wide world's common place?
Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not,
To put fair truth upon so foul a face?
In things right true my heart and eyes have erred,
And to this false plague are they now transferr'd.
137.
Ne ty l', slepoj durak, svoej lyubov'yu
Glaza mne oslepil? i chto teper'?
Vnimavshie krasivomu soslov'yu,
Glaza uznali torzhestvo poter'.
Mozhet oshibka tshchetnogo pristrast'ya?
Solominki spasitel'noj utyug?
Moi druz'ya! sobrat'ya po neschast'yu!
Vdrug eto serdca verolomnyj tryuk?
Kak smozhet serdce razlichit' svoj put',
Mimo kotorogo ves' mir prohodit?
Uzheli ochi, vsyudu vidya mut',
Najdut puti k siyayushchej svobode?
Veli oni menya put¸m poroka,
I vyveli na lozhnuyu dorogu.
138.
When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:
Therefore I lie with her and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.
138.
Kogda lyubov' klyan¸tsya, ya ej veryu,
Hotya podozrevayu v nej obman,
YA masku prostodushiya primeryu,
I lzhivyj mir obmanet nash roman.
Pust' mir schitaet, chto naivna yunost',
Lyubov' prekrasno znaet, chto k chemu,
YA razreshil svoej lyubvi ugryumost':
Ona - nelepost' slovu moemu.
No pochemu ona ne skazhet pravdy?
A ya o staryh tajnah ne skazhu?
Lyubit lyubov' nelepye pregrady,
I doveryaet tajny lish' pazhu:
Tak drugu lzh¸m my, drevnie shamany,
Nam l'styat s lyubov'yu tajnye tumany.
139.
O, call not me to justify the wrong
That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;
Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue;
Use power with power and slay me not by art.
Tell me thou lovest elsewhere, but in my sight,
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside:
What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy might
Is more than my o'er-press'd defense can bide?
Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows
Her pretty looks have been mine enemies,
And therefore from my face she turns my foes,
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:
Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,
Kill me outright with looks and rid my pain.
139.
Ne zashchishchayu lozh' ya, no privyk,
CHto razda¸tsya v serdce zlobnyj laj;
Ne stol'ko ranit vzglyad tvoj, kak yazyk;
Ispol'zuj silu, no ne ubivaj.
Ty, serdce, lyubish' rech' i mir vokrug,
I mne dorozhe ty lyubyh glagolov:
CHto smozhet navredit' tebe, moj drug,
Kogda sil'nee ty moih ukolov?
Tebya proshchayu: chasto bez prichiny
Lyubov' grozoyu iskazhaet nas,
Kak u vraga stanovitsya lichina,
I strel obidy iz lyubimyh glaz:
Ne delaj tak; lyubov' moya ne vrag,
Ot muk menya izbavit tvoj tesak.
140.
Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;
Lest sorrow lend me words and words express
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so;
As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,
No news but health from their physicians know;
For if I should despair, I should grow mad,
And in my madness might speak ill of thee:
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,
Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be,
That I may not be so, nor thou belied,
Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.
140.
Bud' mudrecom, kak vid svirepyj tvoj;
Ne preziraj moyu kosnoyazychnost';
Otdaj mne skorbnost' slov, moj dorogoj,
Menya pust' ogorchaet ih toksichnost'.
Hotya lyubov' ne um, lyubov' pomozhet
Uchitelyu ponyat' uchenika;
No bol' obid lish' nezdorov'e mnozhit,
Tak svoj konec predchuvstvuet bryuzga;
Otchayan'e soputstvuet bezumstvu,
Bezumec ne pojm¸t slova moi:
Mir pragmatizma, boli i koshchunstva
Schitaet klevetoj slova lyubvi,
Glaza medvedya ne poveryat im,
Predvzyatoj gordosti meshaet grim.
141.
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote;
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted,
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone:
But my five wits nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
Thy proud hearts slave and vassal wretch to be:
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.
141.
Mne govoryat glaza, chto oblik tvoj
Nel'zya lyubit' iz-za iz®yanov grubyh;
No serdce lyubit obraz neprostoj,
Nazlo glazam prezrennym serdce lyubit;
Ne raduet yazyk tvoj, pomelo,
Otvratno prikosnut'sya k gryaznoj kozhe,
Ploh vkus i zapah tvoj, i tyazhelo
Vsem dobrym chuvstvam, tak ty nevozmozhen:
No serdce glupoe, gde ty zhiv¸sh',
S pyat¸rkoj chuvstv i myslej ne soglasno,
Kak prezhde verit serdce v molod¸zh',
U podlosti v plenu, vassal neschastnyj:
Tol'ko chuma, dolzhno byt', mne pomozhet,
I vozvratit dolg greshnika, byt' mozhet.
142.
Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving:
O, but with mine compare thou thine own state,
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving;
Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine,
That have profaned their scarlet ornaments
And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine,
Robb'd others' beds' revenues of their rents.
Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lovest those
Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee:
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.
If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,
By self-example mayst thou be denied!
142.
Moj greh - lyubov', ty preziraesh' greshnyh
I nenavidish' greh, poputchik lzhi:
Sravni menya s soboj, i neizbezhno
Dostoinstva otyshchesh' u hanzhi;
Il', mozhet, vspomnish' zvuki yunyh ust,
Kakimi oskorblyal sebya, bednyaga,
Postupkov skvernu, otrican'e uz,
I razgrablen'e drevnih sarkofagov.
Drug drugu dokuchaem my zakonno,
Lyublyu glaza tvoi ya, moj korol',
Bol' serdca nuzhno slushat' blagosklonno,
Idushchij v rost uslyshit svoyu bol'.
Esli uslyshish' to, chto nuzhno skryt',
Znak razglyadish', i vosstanovish' nit'!
143.
Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch
One of her feather'd creatures broke away,
Sets down her babe and makes an swift dispatch
In pursuit of the thing she would have stay,
Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase,
Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent
To follow that which flies before her face,
Not prizing her poor infant's discontent;
So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee,
Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind;
But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me,
And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind:
So will I pray that thou mayst have thy 'Will,'
If thou turn back, and my loud crying still.
143.
|j! kak hozyajka lovit bednyh kur,
Na vremya zabyvaya o synochke,
CHtob ne meshal ej yunyj bedokur,
Ego sazhaet gde-to v ugolochke,
Poka krichit ot nevniman'ya on,
Ona staraetsya pojmat' hot' chto-to,
I chem spokojnej milyj kupidon,
Tem mat' skoree zavershit ohotu;
Vot tak vokrug tebya pero i puh,
YA, budto syn, chej plach terzaet dushu;
No, otvernuvshis', krik ne rezhet sluh,
Bud' mater'yu moej, menya poslushaj:
Skazhi mne tak, moj mal'chik volevoj,
Ty otvernis', i krik ne slushaj moj.
144.
Two loves I have of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still:
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend
Suspect I may, but not directly tell;
But being both from me, both to each friend,
I guess one angel in another's hell:
Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
144.
Na radost', na bedu est' dve lyubvi,
Na uho shepchut mne dva raznyh duha:
Duh muzhestva s otvagoyu v krovi,
I duh bolezni, hitraya staruha.
Ad pobedit, kogda karga cvetnaya
Prel'stit pokoem duha krasoty,
I vozgorditsya, svyatost' popiraya,
Unylyj duh besplodnoj suety.
No esli angel ne poddastsya ej,
Vozmozhno, vs¸ sluchitsya po inomu;
Zavisit vs¸ ot mudrosti moej,
Pust' angel zdravyj navredit bol'nomu:
ZHivut vo mne somneniya, poka
Moj angel zloj szhigaet dobryaka.
145.
Those lips that Love's own hand did make
Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate'
To me that languish'd for her sake;
But when she saw my woeful state,