ver that time come, When I shall see thee frown on my defects, When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum, CalPd to that audit by advised respects; Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye, When love, converted from the thing it was, Shall reasons find of settled gravity, - Against that time do I ensconce me here Within the knowledge of mine own desert, And this my hand against myself uprear, To guard the lawful reasons on thy part: To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws, Since why to love I can allege no cause. 49 Nastupit srok - tomu pridet chered, - I ty osudish' vse moi iz®yany I mne, moya Lyubov', pred®yavish' schet, Ot proshlogo otkreshchivayas' r'yano. Nastupit srok, kogda glaza tvoi, Siyayushchih dva solnca, ravnodushno Skol'znut po mne, zabyv chasy lyubvi, Dvizheniyu tvoej dushi poslushny. Nastupit srok - sebya vooruzhu Soznaniem, chto ya nichto; schitaya Tvoyu vinu svoej, ya dokazhu, CHto prav ty - klyatvenno v tom prisyagaya. Ty vprave, drug, menya lishit' vsego: YA izmenit' ne vprave nichego. 50 How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel's end, Doth teach that ease and that repose to say "Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!" The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, As if by some instinct the wretch did know His rider loved not speed, being made from thee: The bloody spur cannot provoke him on That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide; Which heavily he answers with a groan, More sharp to me than spurring to his side; For that same groan doth put this in my mind: My grief lies onward, and my joy behind. 50 Toska gryzet menya - schitayu mili. Kogda zh konec neschast'ya moego? Razluka shepchet: "Daleko tvoj milyj, Ty s kazhdoj milej dal'she ot nego!" Dom pozadi - ustalyj kon' ponuro Neset menya i gruz bedy moej, Bednyaga slovno chuvstvuet skvoz' shkuru, CHto s kazhdym shagom ya skorblyu sil'nej. Kogda konyu ya shpory v bok vonzayu, On tyazhko rzhet. O, etot ston konya! Kuda ot boli det'sya, ya ne znayu: Pronzaet bol' ostree shpor menya! Uehal ya ot schast'ya: noet grud'. A vperedi - k neschast'yu vernyj put'. 51 Thus can my love excuse the slow offence Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed: From where thou art why should I haste me thence? Till I return, of posting is no need. O, what excuse will my poor beast then find, When swift extremity can seem but slow? Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind; In winged speed no motion shall I know: Then can no horse with my desire keep pace; Therefore desire, of perfect'st love being made, Shall neigh - no dull flesh - in his fiery race; But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade; Since from thee going he went wilful-slow, Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go. 51 Da razve na medlitel'nost' konya YA mog dosadovat' v chasy izgnan'ya, Kogda, ne toropyas', on vez menya Ot schast'ya, ot lyubimogo sozdan'ya? Teper' speshu nazad, no medlit kon', Znat' dolog put', hotya nedolgi sbory: Kogda b on dazhe vzvilsya, kak ogon', I to ya v bok emu vonzil by shpory. Da gde zhe vzyat' stremitel'nyh konej, Takih zhe, kak zhelan'e, bystronogih?! Tak mozhet mchat' ogon' k Lyubvi moej, Mchat', obgonyaya mnogoe i mnogih. K tebe stremyas', ya postuplyu inache: Sam ponesus' ya, brosiv etu klyachu. 52 So am I as the rich, whose blessed key Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since, seldom coming, in the long year set, Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, Or captain jewels in the carcanet. So is the time that keeps you as my chest, Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide, To make some special instant special blest, By new unfolding his imprison'd pride. Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope, Being had, to triumph, being lacked, to hope. 52 V rukah blagoslovennyj klyuch derzha, Bogach ne stanet k zlatu toropit'sya. Tak ya, svoej lyubov'yu dorozha, Ne pozvolyayu chuvstvu pritupit'sya; Ne chasty prazdniki, i kazhdyj raz Moya dusha vozlikovat' gotova, Tak v ozherel'e redkostnyj almaz - Prichina voshishcheniya lyudskogo. Skupoe vremya pryachet vse v sunduk, Razlukoj on zovetsya - lyudi rady Laskat' ego prikosnoven'em ruk. O, kak velikolepny v nem naryady! Nadezhdoj vstrech ya v dni razluk bogat, A v mig svidan'ya - radost'yu ob®yat! 53 What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend? Since every one hath, every one, one shade, And you, but one, can every shadow lend. Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit Is poorly imitated after you; On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, And you in Grecian tires are painted new: Speak of the spring and foison of the year; The one doth shadow of your beauty show, The other as your bounty doth appear; And you in every blessed shape we know. In all eternal grace you have some part, But you like none, none you, for constant heart. 53 Stihiej ty kakoyu porozhden, CHto stol'ko oblikov yavlyaesh' miru? Dan kazhdomu odin, no million Tebe darovan, moemu kumiru. Vostorgi vseh vekov v tebe slilis', I krasota tvoya stol' sovershenna, CHto pred toboj bledneet Adonis I tvoj dvojnik - Prekrasnaya Elena. Vesna - lish' ten' tvoya, i yarkih dnej Vselennoj bez tebya by ne hvatalo, A Osen' - simvol shchedrosti tvoej: Ty i Vesny, i Oseni nachalo. Vsemu ty darish' krasotu i svet, I v mire postoyannej serdca net. 54 O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer it we deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly When summer's breath their masked buds discloses: But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade, Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made: And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth. 54 Krasivoe - krasivej vo sto raz, Kogda krasu venchaet blagorodstvo. Tak roza voshitit ne tol'ko glaz: Est' v nezhnom aromate prevoshodstvo. SHipovnik s aromatnoj rozoj shozh, Kogda buton raskryt dyhan'em leta: Kolyuchki - te zhe, tak zhe on horosh, Poroj takogo zhe, kak roza, cveta. No on krasiv i - tol'ko: pustotu Krasavec posle smerti ostavlyaet, A roza, umiraya, krasotu V nezhnejshie duhi perelivaet. I ty, kak roza: uslazhdaya sluh, V stih perel'etsya blagostnyj tvoj duh. 55 Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone besmear'd with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory. 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom. So, till the judgement that yourself arise, You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. 55 I mramor, i nadgrobiya carej Zatyanet Vremya setkoyu pauch'ej, No ne zalepit gryaz' gryadushchih dnej Netlennyj pamyatnik - sonet moguchij. Smetet tvoren'ya zodchih veter smut, I vojny ne ostavyat izvayanij, No ni ogon', ni Mars ne predadut Zemle stihi - v nih vechen zhar priznanij! Proslavlennyj, ty budesh' zhit' vsegda: Nazlo smertyam, preodolev zabven'e, SHagnesh' v veka! Do Strashnogo suda Toboj divit'sya budut pokolen'ya. Serdca potomkov - tvoj dostojnyj dom, Poka ty ne predstal pred tem sudom. 56 Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd, To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might: So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness, To-morrow see again, and do not kill The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness. Let this sad interim like the ocean be Which parts the shore, where two contracted new Come daily to the banks, that, when they see Return of love, more blest may be the view; Else call it winter, which being full of care Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare. 56 O duh lyubvi, vospryan'! Pust' appetit, Ne prituplyayas', vnov' ko mne vernetsya: Ved' kak by ni byl ya segodnya syt, Vovsyu nazavtra golod razov'etsya. Bud' ty takim zhe! Nynche pust' tvoi Glaza slipayutsya ot presyshchen'ya, No zavtra zapylaj, moj duh lyubvi, Tupoe odolej ocepenen'e! Podobnyj zhar dvum obruchennym dan: CHrez okean drug drugu tyanut ruki - Ih razluchil pritihshij okean, Veshchaya vstrechu i konec razluki. Razluka slovno stuzha, chto zimoj Gotovitsya ustroit' letnij znoj. 57 Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require. Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, Nor think the bitterness of absence sour When you have bid your servant once adieu; Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought Save, where you are, how happy you make those. So true a fool is love that in your will, Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill. 57 Tvoj rab, uzheli ya ne pospeshu Ispolnit' kazhdoe tvoe zhelan'e? YA verno prihotyam tvoim sluzhu I celyj den' vo vlasti ozhidan'ya. Ty, vlastelin, so mnoj, slugoyu, krut: Zvuchit "proshchaj", i vot opyat' razluka! No ne klyanu tomitel'nyh minut, Puskaj nevynosima eta muka! Ne smeyu dat' revnivym myslyam hod: YA - bednyj rab i nichego ne stoyu, YA tol'ko dumayu: "Kak schastliv tot, Kto nerazluchen v etot mig s toboyu!" Lyubov' bezumna i ne rvet okov: V tebe ne vidit nikakih grehov. 58 That god forbid that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand the account of hours to crave, Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! O, let me suffer, being at your beck, The imprison'd absence of your liberty; And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each check, Without accusing you of injury. Be where you list, your charter is so strong That you yourself may privilege your time To what you will; to you it doth belong Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime. I am to wait, though waiting so be hell; Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well. 58 Po vole Boga ya - tvoj rab. I vot Ego molyu ya, chtob tvoim usladam Ne mog vesti ya dazhe v myslyah schet: YA - tvoj vassal: ya povinuyus' vzglyadam I prikazanij zhdu, kak plennik tvoj: Tvoya svoboda - vot moi okovy; Smirenno ya primu uprek lyuboj, Stradat' privyk i ne skazhu ni slova. Predela net, uvy, tvoim pravam, Tebe v pochet lyuboe pregreshen'e: Za vse grehi sebya kaznish' ty sam I sam sebe daruesh' otpushchen'e. Ne mne schitat' chasy tvoih uslad: YA dolzhen zhdat', hot' ozhidan'e - ad. 59 If there be nothing new, but that which is Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled, Which, labouring for invention, bear amiss The second burthen of a former child! O, that record could with a backward look, Even of five hundred courses of the sun, Show me your image in some antique book, Since mind at first in character was done! That I might see what the old world could say To this composed wonder of your frame; Whether we are mended, or whether better they, Or whether revolution be the same. O, sure I am, the wits of former days To subjects worse have given admiring praise. 59 V podlunnom mire nichego ne novo, Izvechno sushchee, no vse ravno V sebe vynashivaet kazhdyj snova To, chto umami rozhdeno davno. Kogda b moj razum mog svyatoyu siloj Vspyat' solnce obratit' na pyat' vekov, I v starom foliante obraz milyj YA mog najti v potoke drevnih slov - Uznal by ya, kak krasotu vosslavil Vo vremena dalekie narod: My - luchshe? Huzhe? Prezhnimi ostavil Nas vechnyj put' - vekov krugovorot? No ne zhil ty, i genii zemli Ne stol' dostojnyh proslavlyat' mogli. 60 Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand. 60 Odna volna smenyaetsya drugoyu, Na bereg bespreryvno gromozdyas'; Minuty drug za drugom cheredoyu Begut vpered, k pogibeli stremyas'. Tak vybroshen mladenec v more sveta, Vpered, vpered - on k zrelosti polzet, No Vremya dar nazad beret, i Leta Zloveshchie zatmeniya neset. Cvet svezhij Vremya mnet i gubit lyuto, CHelo krasy kak plugom borozdit I zhret lyubuyu redkost' - Vremya kruto, Ego kosy nikto ne izbezhit. No lyutuyu kosu sderzhav, sonet Tvoj obraz sohranit na sotni let. 61 Is it thy will thy image should keep open My heavy eyelids to the weary night? Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken, While shadows like to thee do mock my sight? Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee So far from home into my deeds to pry, To find out shames and idle hours in me, The scope and tenour of thy jealousy? O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great: It is my love that keeps mine eye awake; Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, To play the watchman ever for thy sake: For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhere, From me far off, with others all too near. 61 Il' ty nisposylaesh' utomlen'e - Glaz ne mogu somknut' poroj nochnoj? Il' eto teni, vestniki muchen'ya, S toboj druzhny, smeyutsya nado mnoj? Il' eto duh tvoj, poslannyj toboyu, CHtob revnostno vsegda za mnoj sledit' - Zametiv pregreshenie lyuboe, V nevernosti menya izoblichit'? O net, menya ne lyubish' ty nastol'ko, CHtob moj pokoj narushit' v pozdnij chas, - To ya lyublyu! I do togo mne gor'ko, CHto vnov' ya, strazh tvoj, ne smykayu glaz: Lyubov' stoit na strazhe v tishine, Poka k drugim ty blizhe, chem ko mne. 62 Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye And all my soul and all my every part; And for this sin there is no remedy, It is so grounded inward in my heart. Methinks no face so gracious is as mine, No shape so true, no truth of such account, And for myself mine own worth do define, As I all other in all worths surmount. But when my glass shows me myself indeed, Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity, Mine own self-love quite contrary I read; Self so self-loving were iniquity. 'Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise, Painting my age with beauty of thy days. 62 Samovlyublennost' mnoyu zavladela - Porok, pronikshij vglub', neiscelim: On zahvatil i razum moj, i telo, I net lekarstva spravit'sya mne s nim. Vse mnitsya: krasotoyu ya otmechen, I predan istine ya vsej dushoj, I vsemi sovershenstvami uvenchan, I net prichin v razlade byt' s soboj. No v zerkalo vzglyanu potuhshim vzorom - Moe lico izrezali goda, I govorit mne zerkalo s ukorom: "Samovlyublennost' - vot tvoya beda!" Net, ya v sebe tvoyu krasu poyu, CHto starost' vdrug ukrasila moyu. 63 Against my love shall be, as I am now, With Time's injurious hand crush'd and o'erworn; When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his brow With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn Hath travell'd on to age's steepy night, And all those beauties whereof now he's king Are vanishing or vanish'd out of sight, Stealing away the treasure of his spring; For such a time do I now fortify Against confounding age's cruel knife, That he shall never cut from memory My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life: His beauty shall in these black lines be seen, And they shall live, and he in them still green. 63 Nastanet den', kogda moyu Lyubov' ZHestokoj dlan'yu Vremya zlo razdavit, CHasy za kaplej kaplyu vyp'yut krov' I navedut morshchiny - Vremya pravit. I utro yunoe, svershaya put', Zakatom-starikom pridet k loshchine, CHtob v mrachnoj bezdne nochi utonut'. I vot k vojne gotovlyus' ya otnyne - Kak Vremya pobedit'? - ne poterplyu, CHtob Vremeni kosa krasu sgubila: Pust' yunyj drug, kotorogo lyublyu, V lyudskih serdcah zhivet, sojdya v mogilu. Krasu spaset, ispolnya moj zarok, Svet neizbyvnyj etih chernyh strok. 64 When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced The rich proud cost of outworn buried age; When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed And brass eternal slave to mortal rage; When I have seen the hungry ocean gain Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, And the firm soil win of the watery main, Increasing store with loss and loss with store; When I have seen such interchange of state, Or state itself confounded to decay; Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate, That Time will come and take my love away. This thought is as a death, which cannot choose But weep to have that which it fears to lose. 64 YA vizhu: Vremya ne tait svirepost', Stoletij gordost' prevrashchaet v prah I rushit ispodvol' lyubuyu krepost', I dazhe med' - u Vremeni v rukah. YA vizhu, okean prozhorliv: katit Na carstvo sushi sonm vzbeshennyh vod, To okean, to susha podat' platyat, I chereduyutsya dohod-rashod. YA vizhu pyshnyh korolevstv krushen'e I novyh gosudarstv vnezapnyj vzlet, ZHivet vse v mire lish' odno mgnoven'e, - Vot-vot i Vremya druga zaberet. Kak schast'e hrupko - zhizn' polna ugroz: Nemozhno uderzhat' nevol'nyh slez. 65 Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad mortality o'er-sways their power. How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower? O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out Against the wreckful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays? O fearful meditation! where, alack, Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? O, none, unless this miracle have might, That in black ink my love may still shine bright. 65 Uzh esli Smerti yarostnoj podvlastny Granit i bronza, susha i morya, To tak zhe hrupok obraz tvoj prekrasnyj: Nezhnee rozy krasota tvoya. O kto Vesny medovoe dyhan'e Ot neizbezhnoj gibeli spaset?! Sberech' ot Vremeni ne v sostoyan'e Ni kreposti i ni metall vorot, I mysl' gnetet - ot Vremeni gde skryt'sya: CHut' perl ono rodit - speshit sgubit'. CH'ya dlan' derznet ostanovit' ubijcu, Krasu spasti - vspyat' Vremya obratit'? O net, nich'ya! No chudo ya svershil: Krasa sverkaet v chernote chernil. 66 Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, As, to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimm'd 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 miscall'd simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill: Tired with all these, from these would I be gone. Save that, to die, I leave my love alone. 66 Smert' prizyvayu ya - nevmogotu Mne videt' torzhestvo nepravoj sily, Dostoinstvo, chto vvergli v nishchetu, I Veru, chto obmanom podkosili, I razodetuyu do bleska Mraz', I Glupost', pouchayushchuyu Znan'e, I Neporochnost', vtoptannuyu v gryaz', I Muzu v lapah palacha-Molchan'ya, I Blagost', stavshuyu sluzhankoj Zla, I CHestnost', chto proslyla prostotoyu, I Nemoshch', chto nad Moshch'yu vlast' vzyala, I Zlo, vzleleyannoe Dobrotoyu - Smert' prizyvaya, umeret' ne smeyu: Lyubov' sgublyu konchinoyu svoeyu. 67 Ah! wherefore with infection should he live, And with his presence grace impiety, That sin by him advantage should achieve And lace itself with his society? Why should false painting imitate his cheek And steal dead seeing of his living hue? Why should poor beauty indirectly seek Roses of shadow, since his rose is true? Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is, Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins? For she hath no exchequer now but his, And, proud of many, lives upon his gains. O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had In days long since, before these last so bad. 67 Zachem soboj mir gryaznyj ukrashaya, Okazyvaet on beschest'yu chest', Porochnost' milostivo priglashaya S Dobrom i Krasotoyu ryadom sest'? Zachem fal'sh' pribegaet k lozhnoj kraske, Rumyanec pohishchaya s yunyh shchek? Zachem potrebny bednym rozam maski? Zachem ego krasu berut na srok? Zatem, chto obankrotilas' Priroda - Ne ta segodnya, chto byla vchera: Kazna pusta, bylogo net dohoda I zhit' dolzhna za schet ego dobra. Hranit Priroda prezhnej moshchi sled, Kotoroj u nee segodnya net. 68 Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, When beauty lived and died as flowers do now, Before these bastard signs of fair were born, Or durst inhabit on a living brow; Before the golden tresses of the dead, The right of sepulchres, were shorn away, To live a second life on second head; Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay: In him those holy antique hours are seen, Without all ornament, itself and true, Making no summer of another's green, Robbing no old to dress his beauty new; And him as for a map doth Nature store, To show false Art what beauty was of yore. 68 Ego lico - kak ottisk dnej bylyh. V te dni krasa cvela i uvyadala, I ne bylo ulovok nikakih, Kogda svoej krasy nedostavalo. V te dni roskoshnyh zolotyh kudrej Blagogovejno s mertvyh ne srezali, CHtob imi zavlekat' serdca lyudej - CHuzhoj krasy vovek ne zanimali V svyashchennye antichnye goda. I on iz teh vremen - vesnoj chuzhoyu Sebya ne ukrashaet nikogda I proshloe ne predaet razboyu. Priroda etot ottisk sberegla, CHtob videli, kakoj krasa byla. 69 Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend; All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due, Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend. Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown'd; But those same tongues that give thee so thine own In other accents do this praise confound By seeing farther than the eye hath shown. They look into the beauty of thy mind, And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds; Then, churls, their thoughts, although their eyes were kind, To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds: But why thy odour matcheth not thy show, The soil is this, that thou dost common grow. 69 Vse, chto v tebe uvidet' mozhet glaz, Prekrasno i ne prosit ispravlen'ya - Edinodushen v etom obshchij glas, Vragi sderzhat' ne mogut voshishchen'ya: Ocharovatel'na tvoya krasa! No pohvala smenyaetsya huloyu, Zvuchat inache te zhe golosa Teh, kto poznaetsya s tvoej dushoyu: Besslavnost' del tvoih i sladost' slov, Uvy, smushchayut dazhe dobrohotstvo - Zlovonie gniyushchih sornyakov Lyuboj cvetok lishaet blagorodstva. Kogda v sadu gulyayut vse podryad, Sovsem ne tot uzhe v nem aromat. 70 That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, For slander's mark was ever yet the fair; The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air. So thou be good, slander doth but approve Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time; For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, And thou present'st a pure unstained prime. Thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days. Either not assail'd or victor being charged; Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise, To tie up envy evermore enlarged: If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show, Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe. 70 Tebya porochat bez tvoej viny I ot navetov nikuda ne skryt'sya, Ved' vorony poklepa rozhdeny, CHtob v yasnom nebe krasoty kruzhit'sya. K butonam nezhnym strast' chervej sil'na, Soblazn tem bol'she, chem prekrasnej chudo: Ty bez iz®yanov, kak sama Vesna - Navetchikov lyubimejshee blyudo. Blagopoluchno projdeny toboj Kapkany yunosti, i Leto priletelo; Da, ty vyigryval za boem boj, No net rastushchej zavisti predela: Kogda b krasu izvet ne ochernyal, To v carstve vseh serdec ty b pravil bal. 71 No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell: Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it; for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot If thinking on me then should make you woe. O, if, I say, you look upon this verse When I perhaps compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poor name rehearse, But let your love even with my life decay, Lest the wise world should look into your moan And mock you with me after I am gone. 71 Ukradkoyu vsplakni - sebya ne muchaj, Uslysha v zvone gorestnom cerkvej, CHto mir hudoj ya promenyal na hudshij I ot lyudej ushel - kormit' chervej. Uvidev eti stroki nenarokom, Naprasno, drug, sebya ne ogorchaj: Tebya, lyubimogo, kaznit' uprekom YA ne zhelayu dazhe nevznachaj. Kogda moj prah smeshaetsya s zemleyu, I etot skorbnyj stih tebya najdet - Ne vspominaj menya, togo ne stoyu: Puskaj tvoya lyubov' so mnoj umret. Svoyu pechal' ne vydavaj slezoj, CHtob mir ne stal glumit'sya nad toboj. 72 O, lest the world should task you to recite What merit lived in me, that you should love After my death, dear love, forget me quite, For you in me can nothing worthy prove; Unless you would devise some virtuous lie, To do more for me than mine own desert, And hang more praise upon deceased I Than niggard truth would willingly impart: O, lest your true love may seem false in this, That you for love speak well of me untrue, My name be buried where my body is, And live no more to shame nor me nor you. For I am shamed by that which I bring forth, And so should you, to love things nothing worth. 72 CHtob mir voprosami ne donimal, Za chto pri zhizni ty menya primetil, Zabud' menya - ne stoyu ya pohval: Zabud', kak budto ne zhil ya na svete. K chemu dobroporyadochnaya Lozh', Kogda skupaya Pravda hodit ryadom? Nichem ya ne byl dlya tebya horosh: Umru - i vspominat' menya ne nado; I ne pripisyvaj ty mne zaslug, Dan' otdavaya druzhbe nashej nezhnoj, Zaroj so mnoyu moe imya, drug: Neset mne i tebe styd neizbezhnyj. Moj styd - moi nichtozhnye tvoren'ya, Tvoj styd - ko mne, nichtozhnomu, vlechen'e. 73 That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by. This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long. 73 Vo mne ty vidish' sumerechnost' goda: List pozheltel, dal' holoda polna, Razrushen hram, umchalis' zvony svoda, Napevy ptic smenila tishina. Vo mne ty vidish' solnce na zakate, Na zapade emu pora usnut', I noch', veshchaya smert', svoi pechati Kladet ustalym nebesam na grud'. Vo mne ty vidish' zhizni pepelishche, Ot yunosti ostalas' lish' zola, I zhizn' na smertnom lozhe - stala pishchej: Kormya ogon', im sozhzhena dotla. Tebe vse yasno i v tvoej krovi Vse plamennej proshchal'nyj zhar lyubvi. 74 But be contented; when that fell arrest Without all bail shall carry me away, My life hath in this line some interest, Which for memorial still with thee shall stay. When thou reviewest this, thou dost review The very part was consecrate to thee: The earth can have but earth, which is his due; My spirit is thine, the better part of me: So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life,