145.

Tomilsya ya, i vdrug raskat
Iz ust lyubimyh: "Nenavizhu",
I groma tresk, i molnij ad;
No, uvidav, ya skorb'yu dvizhim,

Smyagchilos' serdce, i upr¸k,
CHto bran'yu otozvalos' eho,
Smutil yazyk, no vnov' izr¸k
Neskladnyj zvuk svoj neumeha:

"YA nenavizhu", - kak zlodej
B'¸t snopom iskr zemnye skaly,
Kak noch' igraet ten'yu dnej,
Pugaya gibel'nym oskalom;

"YA nenavizhu", - slovno yad,
No zhizn' vernulas', - "ne tebya".

146.

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
[...] these rebel powers that thee array;
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?

Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end?

Then soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more:

So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,
And Death once dead, there's no more dying then.

146.

Neschastnaya dusha, centr ploti gnusnoj,
[Vokrug] tebya vojska tvoih rabov;
Zachem tomish'sya ty v lachuge grustnoj
I ukrashaesh' kreposti grehov?

Zachem ty tratish' sily zhizni kratkoj,
Dvorec vozvodish', zolotoj chertog?
CHtob chervi i nasledniki dostatka
Ego sozhrali? eto tvoj itog?

Dusha-dusha, sluzha chervyam kurguzym,
Skorb' umnozhaesh' tela svoego;
Menyaesh' dar nebes na nizkij musor;
Zemlya poglotit prah, i net ego:

Kogda zh gotovish' pishchu dlya uma,
S®edayut lyudi Smert', mirazh ona.

147.

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.

My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.

Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;

For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

147.

Moya lyubov' podobna lihoradke,
CHto pestuet bolezn' i mnozhit zhar,
A on gotovit novye zagadki,
CHtob bred ih razreshil bol'noj ugar.

Ne mozhet razum-lekar' ugadat',
Kakoe sredstvo utolit pechali,
I ostavlyaet plot' moyu stradat',
CHtob sily smerti mne lekarstvo dali.

V volnen'e ustremlyalsya ya nazad,
Iskal bezumnym razumom istoki;
No razum bednyj, vozvrashchayas' v ad,
Ne mog izvlech' poleznye uroki;

Lish' klyalsya krasotoj i mysl'yu yasnoj,
Pechal'noj slovno noch', kak ad uzhasnoj.

148.

O me, what eyes hath Love put in my head,
Which have no correspondence with true sight!
Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled,
That censures falsely what they see aright?

If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,
What means the world to say it is not so?
If it be not, then love doth well denote
Love's eye is not so true as all men's 'No.'

How can it? O, how can Love's eye be true,
That is so vex'd with watching and with tears?
No marvel then, though I mistake my view;
The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.

O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind,
Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.

148.

CHto za glaza u serdca moego?
Lyubov', ty iskazhaesh' vs¸ na svete!
A mozhet iz upryamstva svoego
Ne slushaet moj mozg pribory eti?

Nastol'ko lyubit mozg svoi glaza,
Speshit ispravit' zrimye kartiny?
Predpochitaet verit' v chudesa
I v mir privychnyh mnenij, chasto mnimyh?

Kak mozhet byt'? vokrug beda i sl¸zy,
Kak opravdat' obmannye glaza?
No, vprochem, verno, chto net very gr¸zam;
Tak solnce pryachet lik poka groza.

O, hitraya Lyubov'! ty slepish' glaz,
CHtob ne zametil vzdor tvoih grimas.

149.

Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not,
When I against myself with thee partake?
Do I not think on thee, when I forgot
Am of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake?

Who hateth thee that I do call my friend?
On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon?
Nay, if thou lour'st on me, do I not spend
Revenge upon myself with present moan?

What merit do I in myself respect,
That is so proud thy service to despise,
When all my best doth worship thy defect,
Commanded by the motion of thine eyes?

But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind;
Those that can see thou lovest, and I am blind.

149.

O, uzhas! govorit', chto ne lyubil ya,
Kogda sebe pod kozhu ya zalez?
Uzhel' besplodny vse moi usil'ya?
Uzhel' vo mne muchitel' ne ischez?

Razve s prezrennym zlom ya v druzhbe nyne?
Razve besploden glupyj moj vopros?
Zachem chernee nochi ty, boginya?
Za chto ty mstish' mne dikim stonom groz?

CHem zasluzhil tvo¸ raspolozhen'e
I gordosti prezritel'nyj otkaz,
Ved' obozhal ya kazhdoe mgnoven'e,
Kogda svetilo solnce milyh glaz?

Lyubov', ya razgadayu rebus tvoj;
Ty lyubish' teh, kto vidit; ya slepoj.

150.

O, from what power hast thou this powerful might
With insufficiency my heart to sway?
To make me give the lie to my true sight,
And swear that brightness doth not grace the day?

Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill,
That in the very refuse of thy deeds
There is such strength and warrantize of skill
That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds?

Who taught thee how to make me love thee more
The more I hear and see just cause of hate?
O, though I love what others do abhor,
With others thou shouldst not abhor my state:

If thy unworthiness raised love in me,
More worthy I to be beloved of thee.

150.

Otkuda stol'ko sily, stol'ko vlasti
Plenyat' serdca, prityagivat' umy?
O, pochemu nesbytochnoe schast'e
V plenu illyuzij, uznikov tyur'my?

Kakoj bolezn'yu serdce porazila,
CHto, otvergaya pomoshch' i teplo,
Ono vnimaet gibeli i sile,
I temnotoj tvoej uvlecheno?

Kto nauchil tebya vnushat' lyubov',
I tem sil'nej, chem bol'she nenavizhu?
O, nakazan'e, mir, mne prigotov',
No dlya menya ty stanesh' tol'ko blizhe:

Uzh esli dazhe greh lyublyu ya tvoj,
Kakov zhe svet tvoj, dobryj moj geroj.

151.

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 father 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 affairs, fall by thy side.

No want of conscience hold it that I call
Her love for whose dear love I rise and fall.

151.

Pro sovest' znaet yunaya lyubov';
A ot lyubvi rozhd¸nnyj chto uznaet?
Somnen'em derzkim mne ne prekoslov',
Vo mne svoi oshibki otricaya:

YA izmenil predatel'skomu telu,
Tebe, nevernyj, veren do konca;
Zavisit telo ot dushi vsecelo;
U zerkala net mysli i lica;

I, esli ty vozvysish'sya nad plot'yu,
Ona voznagradit tebya s lihvoj.
Ne vozgordis', o dvoryanin v lohmot'yah,
Rabotaj i ostan'sya sam soboj.

Kak, chereduya vshody i zakaty,
Rabotayut nebesnye gromady.

152.

In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn,
But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing,
In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn,
In vowing new hate after new love bearing.

But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee,
When I break twenty? I am perjured most;
For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee
And all my honest faith in thee is lost,

For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness,
Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy,
And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness,
Or made them swear against the thing they see;

For I have sworn thee fair; more perjured eye,
To swear against the truth so foul a lie!

152.

Ty, verno, znaesh', ya narushil slovo,
No ved' i ty dva raza obmanul,
Lyubov'yu klyalsya ty i veroj novoj,
Potom prezren'em slovu moemu.

No pochemu upr¸k lish' v dvuh izmenah,
Hotya ya dvadcat' klyatv perestupil?
Narushil mnogo ya obetov cennyh,
Tebya vo mnogom lozhno obvinil,

No mne hotelos', vidyat nebesa,
Klyatv vernosti tvoej, lyubvi i pravdy,
I, chtob dobit'sya, ya slepil glaza
I izuchal ih hitrye landshafty;

I klyalsya ya, i klyatvy narushal,
CHtob ispytat' na prochnost' ideal!

153.

Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep:
A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground;

Which borrow'd from this holy fire of Love
A dateless lively heat, still to endure,
And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove
Against strange maladies a sovereign cure.

But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new-fired,
The boy for trial needs would touch my breast;
I, sick withal, the help of bath desired,
And thither hied, a sad distemper'd guest,

But found no cure: the bath for my help lies
Where Cupid got new fire -- my mistress' eyes.

153.

Amur, usnuvshij, fakel obronil:
Ego nashla ohotnica-boginya,
Nevdaleke holodnyj klyuch burlil,
I pogruzilsya ogn' v istochnik sinij;

Otdav potoku svoj svyashchennyj zhar,
Plamya Lyubvi usililo burlen'e,
K vode celebnoj vskore mlad i star
Put' prolozhili s cel'yu iscelen'ya.

No tot, kto ishchet ot lyubvi pokoj,
Tot ne najd¸t lekarstva ot durmana;
Hotel i ya spasitel'noj vodoj
Unyat' tosku i uspokoit' rany,

No bylo tshchetno: klyuch menya ne spas,
Menya izlechit plamya milyh glaz.

154.

The little Love-god lying once asleep
Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand,
Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep
Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand

The fairest votary took up that fire
Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd;
And so the general of hot desire
Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd.

This brand she quenched in a cool well by,
Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual,
Growing a bath and healthful remedy
For men diseased; but I, my mistress' thrall,

Came there for cure, and this by that I prove,
Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.

154.

Odnazhdy zadremal Amur - malysh,
Zabyv i fakel i ogon' goryashchij,
Tut nimfy strogie prokralis' v tish',
I vynuli ogon' iz ruchki spyashchej;

I totchas zharom vspyhnuli serdca
U chistyh dev, sogretye lyubov'yu;
Tak, son otrinuv, plennik iz dvorca
Na mir vziraet, voshishch¸nnyj nov'yu.

V holodnom tele etot zhar poleznyj
Gorit, soedinyaya nit' vrem¸n,
On - dobroe lekarstvo ot boleznej;
No ya, lyubvi pokornyj, iscel¸n

I miru govoryu, chto chelovek
Sogret ogn¸m, negasnushchim vovek.