Soneto 58 |
| ¡Qué no permita el Dios que me hizo
vuestro esclavo, | | | | que yo piense ni trate de controlar tus gozos, | | | | o que ruegue en tu mano la cuenta de las horas, | | | | siendo vuestro vasallo, obligado a serviros! | | |
|
| ¡Oh! Dejadme sufrir viviendo a tu
servicio, |
5 | | | la aprisionada ausencia de vuestra libertad, | | | | soportando mi pena, tan lenta en cada golpe, | | | | sin que jamás escuches mi acusación de
injuria. | | |
|
| Id donde más gustéis, tan fuerte es
tu derecho | | | | que sólo a vos se otorga, la gracia de tu tiempo. |
10 | | | Según tu voluntad, solo a vos pertenece, | | | | el poder perdonar vuestro propio delito. | | |
|
| Yo, a esperar, aunque sea, esta espera el
infierno, | | | | sin reprochar tus gustos, sean buenos o malos. | | |
|
Sonnet
58
|
| That God forbid, that made
first your slave, | | | | I should in thought control your times of
pleasure, | | | | Or at your hand th' account of hours to
crave, | | | | Being your vassal bound to say your
leisure. | | |
|
| Oh let me suffer (being at your
beck) |
5 | | | Th'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 |
10 | | | 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. | | |
|
Soneto 59 |
| Si no hay ya nada nuevo y todo lo que existe | | | | ha existido ya antes, ¡cómo la mente ilusa, | | | | en su afán de inventiva, lleva tan vanamente, | | | | la carga de segundas de un niño ya nacido! | | |
|
| ¡Oh! Si evocar pudiera, la mirada,
volviendo, |
5 | | | más allá de quinientas, vueltas que ha dado el
sol, | | | | mostrarme vuestra imagen, en algún libro antiguo, | | | | ya que se expresó el alma, primeramente en letras. | | |
|
| Para saber que dice el mundo más
antiguo, | | | | ante el bello milagro de vuestro propio ser, |
10 | | | si lo hemos mejorado; o el de ellos fue mejor, | | | | o las revoluciones, han sido y son iguales. | | |
|
| También, estoy seguro, de que ingenios
pasados, | | | | a peores sujetos le han brindado sus loas. | | |
|
Sonnet
59
|
| If there be nothing new, but
that which is, | | | | Hath been before, how are our brains
beguil'd, | | | | Which labouring for invention bear
amiss | | | | The second burthen of a former
child? | | |
|
| Oh that record could with a
backward look, |
5 | | | 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, |
10 | | | Whether we are mended, or where better
they, | | | | Or whether revolution be the
same. | | |
|
| Oh sure I am the wits of former
days, | | | | To subjects worse have given admiring
praise. | | |
|
Soneto 60 |
| Como avanzan las olas por la escarpada orilla, | | | | así nuestros minutos, van raudos hacia el fin, | | | | intercambiando el sitio con el que va delante, | | | | en su afanoso esfuerzo de querer avanzar. | | |
|
| La infancia cuando llega sobre el mar de la
luz, |
5 | | | se arrastra hacia la cumbre y apenas la corona, | | | | lucha contra la insidia de malignos eclipses | | | | y el don que le dio el Tiempo, el Tiempo lo destruye. | | |
|
| El Tiempo transfigura las galas juveniles, | | | | excava con sus surcos la faz de la belleza |
10 | | | y tiene su alimento en las raras naturas, | | | | sin que nada subsista a su aguda guadaña. | | |
|
| Sin embargo, mis versos, perdurarán al
Tiempo, | | | | elogiando tus prendas sin ver su mano cruel. | | |
|
Sonnet
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, |
5 | | | 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, |
10 | | | 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. | | |
|
Soneto 61 |
| ¿Es qué deseas, qué, tu
imagen tenga abiertos, | | | | mis párpados pesados en la cansada noche? | | | | ¿Deseas qué mi sueño se vea
interrumpido, | | | | mientras formas iguales, a ti, gozan mi vista? | | |
|
| ¿Es tan sólo tu espíritu el
que al sueño me envías, |
5 | | | lejos de tu mirada a espiar mis acciones, | | | | para encontrar en mí, vergüenza y horas vanas, | | | | que sean el pretexto y el móvil de tus celos? | | |
|
| ¡Oh! Tu amor, aún tan grande, no
puede serlo tanto. | | | | Es mi amor quien mantiene a mi ojo despierto, |
10 | | | mi pío y propio amor quien turba mi descanso, | | | | para hacer de guardián, celando en tu favor. | | |
|
| Yo celo, mientras tú, en otras partes
velas, | | | | lejos de mí y de otros, aún demasiado cerca. | | |
|
Sonnet
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 |
5 | | | So far from home into my deeds to
pry, | | | | To find out shames and idle hours in
me, | | | | The scope and tenure of thy
jealousy? | | |
|
| O no, thy love though much, is
not so great, | | | | It is my love that keeps mine eye
awake, |
10 | | | 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. | | |
|
Soneto 62 |
| Pecado de amor propio tiene todo mi ojo | | | | y así, toda mi alma y toda parte mía, | | | | y para este pecado yo no encuentro remedio, | | | | por estar tan metido dentro del corazón. | | |
|
| Pienso que no hay un rostro, tan bello como el
mío, |
5 | | | ni figura tan rítmica, ni armonía tan cara, | | | | y yo mismo celebro mi íntimo atractivo, | | | | y con mi propio mérito a todos los supero. | | |
|
| Pero cuando el espejo, me muestra tal cual
soy, | | | | golpeado y rajado por curtida vejez, |
10 | | | entiendo lo contrario del amor a mí mismo | | | | y amar de esta manera sería iniquidad. | | |
|
| Eres tú, que soy yo, quién loo al
elogiarme, | | | | pintando mi vejez, con tu beldad diaria. | | |
|
Sonnet
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, |
5 | | | 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, |
10 | | | Mine own self-love quite contrary I
read; | | | | Self, so self-loving were
iniquity. | | |
|
| 'T is thee (my self) that for
myself I praise, | | | | Painting my age with beauty of thy
days. | | |
|
Soneto 63 |
| Contra mi amor, será, como conmigo
ahora, | | | | la vil mano del tiempo que desgasta y arruga, | | | | cuando el tiempo reseque su sangre y en su frente, | | | | ponga líneas y pliegues. Cuando en su juventud | | |
|
| llegue por la escarpada tiniebla de la edad |
5 | | | y todas las bellezas en las que reina ahora, | | | | estén desvanecidas o a punto de esfumarse, | | | | robándole el tesoro de su gran primavera. | | |
|
| Para el instante aquel, yo ya me fortifico, | | | | contra el cuchillo incruento de la edad destructora, |
10 | | | que no pueda este nunca, cortar de la memoria, | | | | la beldad de mi amor, aunque mi amor me mate. | | |
|
| En estas negras líneas se verá tu
belleza, | | | | y sobrevivirán, con él, fragante y verde. | | |
|
Sonnet
63
|
| Against my love shall be as I
am now | | | | With Time's injurious hand crush'd and
o'erworn, | | | | When hours heve drain'd his blood and fill's
his brow | | | | With lines and wrinkles, when his youthful
morn | | |
|
| Hath travell'd on to Age's
steepy night, |
5 | | | 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, |
10 | | | 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. | | |
|
Soneto 64 |
| Cuando vi deformado, por vil mano del Tiempo, | | | | el caudal de otro tiempo, gastado y enterrado, | | | | cuando veo caídas las torres más excelsas, | | | | y el bronce eterno esclavo del más mortal furor, | | |
|
| cuando veo al hambriento océano ganar, |
5 | | | ventaja en las arenas del reino de la playa, | | | | y a la tierra robarle a la mar su extensión, | | | | compensando ganancia, con pérdida entre ellos. | | |
|
| Al ver tan semejantes, cambios en sus estados, | | | | o al estado rodando hacia su decadencia, |
10 | | | la Ruina me enseñó, a bien reflexionar, | | | | que el Tiempo ha de venir ha llevarse a mi amor. | | |
|
| Muerte es mi pensamiento, que no puede elegir,
| | | | si no llorar amores, que más teme perder. | | |
|
Sonnet
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
rased, | | | | And brass eternal slave to mortal
rage. | | |
|
| When I have seen the hungry
Ocean gain |
5 | | | Advantage on the kingdom of the
shore, | | | | And the firm soil win of the wat'ry
main, | | | | Increasing store with loss, and loss with
store. | | |
|
| When Y have seen such
interchange of state, | | | | Or state itself confounded, to
decay, |
10 | | | 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. | | |
|
Soneto 65 |
| Si no hay bronce ni piedra, ni océano ni
tierra, | | | | cuyo poder supere la triste mortandad, | | | | ¿cómo con esta furia, luchara la belleza, | | | | cuyo obrar no es más fuerte, que el hacer de una
flor? | | |
|
| ¿O cómo el dulce hálito del
verano aguantar, |
5 | | | ante el ruinoso asedio, de destructores días, | | | | cuando rocas inmunes, no han sido tan robustas, | | | | ni puerta inexpugnable, que al Tiempo no sucumba? | | |
|
| ¡Meditar espantoso! ¿Dónde
podré guardar, | | | | el gran caudal del Tiempo, el cofre del vil Tiempo? |
10 | | | ¿O qué mano podrá, detener, pie tan
raudo? | | | | ¿O quién podrá impedirle que robe la
belleza? | | |
|
| ¡Oh! Nadie, mas si acaso, puede ser el
milagro, | | | | de que en mi letra negra, brilles tú para siempre. | | |
|
Sonnet
65
|
| Since brass, nor stone, nor
earth, nor boundless sea, | | | | But sad mortality o'ersways 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, |
5 | | | Against the wrackful siege of batt'ring
days, | | | | When rocks impregnable are not so
stout, | | | | Nor gates of steel so strong but Time
decays? | | |
|
| O fearful meditation, were
alck, | | | | Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest
lie hid? |
10 | | | Or what strong hand can hold hiss 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. | | |
|
Soneto 66 |
| De todo esto cansado, pido el mortal descanso, | | | | al ver nacer mendigo aquel de mayor mérito, | | | | y la enclenque torpeza, ornada alegremente, | | | | y la fe más sincera, vilmente traicionada | | |
|
| y el honor refulgente, donado innoblemente, |
5 | | | y la casta virtud, forzada a ser buscona, | | | | y recta perfección, afrentada con saña, | | | | y fuerza mutilada, por el poder corrupto | | |
|
| y el arte amordazado, con toda autoridad, | | | | y la docta locura, oprimir al talento, |
10 | | | y la honradez sencilla, mal llamada simpleza, | | | | y al Bien que cautivado, sirve al Mal, su Señor. | | |
|
| Cansado de estas cosas, quiero dejar el mundo, | | | | salvo que por morir, dejo solo a mi amor. | | |
|
Sonnet
66
|
| Tir'd 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
misplac'd, |
5 | | | And maiden Virtue rudely
strumpeted, | | | | And right Perfection wrongfully
disgrac'd, | | | | And Strenght by limping sway
disabled, | | |
|
| And Art made tongue-tied by
Auhority, | | | | And Folly (doctor-like) controlling
Skill, |
10 | | | And simple Truth miscall'd
Simplicity, | | | | And captive Good attending Captain
ill. | | |
|
| Tir'd with all these, from
these would I be gone, | | | | Save that to die, I leave my love
alone. | | |
|
Soneto 67 |
| ¿Por qué razón, debiera,
él, vivir apestado, | | | | y honrar con su presencia la maligna impiedad, | | | | para que por su gracia se aventaje el pecado, | | | | usando de las galas que da su compañía? | | |
|
| ¿Y por qué el falso afeite, imita su
mejilla, |
5 | | | y roba para un pálido su viviente color | | | | o por qué la belleza empobrecida busca, | | | | imaginarias rosas, siendo su flor real? | | |
|
| ¿Por qué ha de vivir hoy con la
Natura en quiebra, | | | | de sangre, porque encienda, otras venas vivientes? |
10 | | | Por que Natura en él, tiene su gran tesoro, | | | | y orgullosa de tanto, vive de su ganancia. | | |
|
| Lo guarda por mostrar, la riqueza que tuvo, | | | | en días ya remotos, antes que estos tan malos. | | |
|
Sonnet
67
|
| Ah wherefore with infection
should he live, | | | | And with his presence grace
impeity, | | | | That sin by him advantage should
achieve, | | | | And lace itself with his
society? | | |
|
| Why should false painting
imitate his cheek, |
5 | | | And steal dead seeing of his living
hue? | | | | Why should poor beauty inderectly
seek | | | | Roses of shadow, since his rose is
true? | | |
|
| Why should he live, now Nature
bankrout is, | | | | Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively
veins, |
10 | | | 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. | | |
|
Soneto 68 |
| En su mejilla el mapa de días ya
remotos, | | | | en que como las flores la belleza vivía, | | | | aún antes que estos signos, bastardos de hermosura, | | | | nacieran y hasta osaran, habitar faz viviente. | | |
|
| Antes que la doradas, trenzas de los que
mueren, |
5 | | | propiedad de las fosas, fueran cortadas, para | | | | vivir segunda vida en segunda cabeza, | | | | y los muertos despojos sirvieran de ornamento. | | |
|
| En él, esas sagradas horas, aún no
visibles, | | | | sin nada que lo adorne, real y verdaderas, |
10 | | | sin hacer su verano con el verdor ajeno, | | | | ni adornar con lo antiguo a su nueva hermosura. | | |
|
| Para servir de mapa, Natura lo conserva, | | | | mostrando al falso Arte como fue la Belleza. | | |
|
Sonnet
68
|
| Thus in his cheek the map of
days outworn, | | | | When beauty liv'd and died as flowers do
now, | | | | Before these bastard signs of fair were
borne, | | | | Or durst inhabit on a living
brow: | | |
|
| Before the golden tresses of
the dead, |
5 | | | 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, |
10 | | | 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. | | |
|
Soneto 69 |
| Esas partes de ti, que ve el ojo del mundo, | | | | nada piden, que pueda, reponer el instinto. | | | | Las lenguas y las almas, te dan ese tributo, | | | | esa verdad desnuda que aceptan tus rivales. | | |
|
| Coronan tu fachada con loas exteriores, |
5 | | | pero las mismas lenguas, que te dan lo debido, | | | | con diversos acentos, cambian esos elogios, | | | | escrutando más lejos, de lo que el ojo muestra. | | |
|
| Miran en tu interior, la beldad de tu alma, | | | | y a esta, en conjetura, por sus acciones miden, |
10 | | | cuando sus rudas mentes y benévolos ojos, | | | | añaden a tu rosa, hedor de malas hierbas. | | |
|
| Mas porque a tu apariencia, tu olor no
corresponde, | | | | el resultado es este: Que creces entre el vulgo. | | |
|
Sonnet
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, | | | | Utt'ring bare truth, even so as foes
commend. | | |
|
| Thine outward thus with outward
praise is crown'd, |
5 | | | 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, |
10 | | | 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. | | |
|
Soneto 70 |
| Que algunos te difamen no es para ti defecto, | | | | pues siempre la belleza fue blanco de calumnias; | | | | adornar la belleza es siempre sospechoso, | | | | un cuervo que volando, cruza el más dulce cielo. | | |
|
| Así, sé virtuoso, que la calumnia
muestre, |
5 | | | tu mérito aún más grande, cotejado del
tiempo, | | | | que el gusano del vicio ama el dulce capullo | | | | y tú, puro, nos muestras, tu alegre primavera. | | |
|
| Cruzaste las insidias de tus lejanos
días, | | | | sin ser nunca asaltado o victorioso de ellas, |
10 | | | mas nunca esta alabanza, podrá igualar la tuya, | | | | que encadena la envidia, cada vez más hinchada. | | |
|
| Si esta sombra del mal, no velara tu aspecto, | | | | seguro que serías un rey de corazones. | | |
|
Sonnet
70
|
| That thou art blam'd 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, |
5 | | | 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 assil'd, or victor being
charg'd |
10 | | | Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy
praise, | | | | To tie up envy, evermore
enlarg'd: | | |
|
| If some suspect of ill mask'd
not thy show, | | | | Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldts
owe. | | |
|
Soneto 71 |
| No lloréis por mi causa el día que
esté muerto, | | | | mas cuando oigáis la fúnebre y severa
campana, | | | | dar aviso a este mundo de que al fin me he marchado, | | | | del vil mundo a vivir, entre viles gusanos. | | |
|
| Mas, si leéis mis versos, no recordar la
mano, |
5 | | | que estas líneas ha escrito, dado que os amo tanto, | | | | que de tu pensamiento, quiero ser olvidado, | | | | si al pensar en mí entonces, os causara dolor. | | |
|
| O escuchar lo que digo: si miráis estos
versos, | | | | cuando tal vez esté mezclado con la arcilla, |
10 | | | no repitáis siquiera mi miserable nombre, | | | | dejad que vuestro amor, con mi vida sucumba. | | |
|
| Que puede el docto mundo, oír vuestros
lamentos, | | | | y mofarse, por mí, de vos cuando no esté. | | |
|
Sonnet
71
|
| No longer mourn for me when I
am dead, | | | | That 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 |
5 | | | 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, |
10 | | | Do not so much as my poor name
rehearse; | | | | Bt 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. | | |
|
Soneto 72 |
| Mirad, para que el mundo, no os obligue a
contar, | | | | que mérito tenía, para que vos me amarais, | | | | cuando muera, amor mío, olvídame del todo, | | | | que en mí, nada valioso, podrás mostrar al
mundo. | | |
|
| A no ser que probéis con generoso
embuste, |
5 | | | lo que digas por mí, mas de lo que merezco, | | | | y eches sobre mi cuerpo, muerto más alabanzas, | | | | que la avara verdad concede generosa. | | |
|
| O para que tu amor no parezca que es falso, | | | | cuando habléis bien de mí, diciendo la
mentira, |
10 | | | sea mi nombre puesto, donde mi cuerpo está, | | | | sin que tu te sonrojes, ni me avergüence yo. | | |
|
| Dado que me sonrojo de todo lo que hago, | | | | y vos, también, de amar, lo que no vale nada. | | |
|
Sonnet
72
|
| O lest the world should task
you to recite, | | | | What merit liv'd 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
vituous lie, |
5 | | | To do more for me than mine own
desert, | | | | And hang more praise upon deceased
I, | | | | Than niggard truth would willingly
impart: | | |
|
| O les your true love may seem
false in this, | | | | That you for love speak well of me
untrue, |
10 | | | My name be buried where my body
is, | | | | And live no more to shame nor me, nor
you. | | |
|
| For I am sham'd by that which I
bring forth, | | | | And so should you, to love things nothing
worth. | | |
|
Soneto 73 |
| Mira en mí, sólo aquella, mal
época del año, | | | | cuando hojas amarillas, ya pocas o ninguna, | | | | de las ramas, aún cuelgan, tiritando de frío, | | | | en el ruinoso coro, donde cantaron aves. | | |
|
| Mira en mí, solamente, el ocaso del
día, |
5 | | | como tras el crepúsculo se esfuma en occidente, | | | | poco a poco, robado, por la trágica noche, | | | | gemela de la muerte y todo su reposo. | | |
|
| En mí, ves el rescoldo de aquel divino
fuego, | | | | que sobre las cenizas de su juventud yace, |
10 | | | como el lecho de muerte, en que debe expirar, | | | | consumido por todo lo que fue su alimento. | | |
|
| Esto ves, con lo cual, hace a tu amor más
fuerte, | | | | para amar bien aquello, que pronto dejarás. | | |
|
Sonnet
73
|
| That time of year thou mayst in
me behold, | | | | When yellow leaves, or none, or few do
hang | | | | Upon those bought which shake against the
cold, | | | | Bare ruin'd choir, where late the sweet
birds sang. | | |
|
| In me thou seest the twilight
of such day, |
5 | | | 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 seest the glowing of
such fire, | | | | That on the ashes of his youth doth
lie, |
10 | | | As the death-bed, whereon it must
expire, | | | | Consum'd with that which is was nourish'd
by. | | |
|
| This thou perceiv'st, which
makes thy love more stong, | | | | To love that well, which thou must leave ere
long. | | |
|
Soneto 74 |
| Tú quédate tranquilo cuando aquel
fiero arresto, | | | | que sin apelación ni redención me lleve. | | | | Mi vida en estas líneas algún valor conserva, | | | | que como mi recuerdo, contigo quedarán. | | |
|
| Y al volver a leerme, tú volverás a
ver, |
5 | | | que lo más verdadero de mí te
consagré. | | | | La tierra es sólo tierra y así le
corresponde, | | | | mas mi espíritu es tuyo, que es lo mejor de
mí. | | |
|
| Así, tú habrás perdido la
escoria de la vida, | | | | la presa del gusano cuando mi cuerpo muera. |
10 | | | La cobarde conquista del cuchillo de un vil, | | | | es demasiado ruin, para que la recuerdes. | | |
|
| El mérito de aquello está en su
contenido, | | | | y este se encuentra aquí, y a ti te pertenece. | | |
|
Sonnet
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, |
5 | | | 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, | | | | The prey of worms, my body being
dead, |
10 | | | The coward conquest of a wretch's
knife, | | | | Too base of thee to be
remembered. | | |
|
| The worth of that, is that
which it contains, | | | | And that is this, and this with thee
remains. | | |
|
Soneto 75 |
| Sois a mi pensamiento, cual pan para vivir, | | | | o como el dulce tiempo de lluvias a la tierra, | | | | y yo por vuestra paz, sostengo tal batalla, | | | | como la que se entabla entre avaro y tesoro. | | |
|
| Ora altivo cual dueño y ora
súbitamente, |
5 | | | temeroso que el tiempo le robe su riqueza. | | | | O estimo que no hay nada, mejor, que estar con vos, | | | | y prefiero que el mundo contemple mi placer. | | |
|
| A veces jubiloso, ante vuestra presencia, | | | | y más tarde famélico de una mirada tuya, |
10 | | | no queriendo tener, ni buscar más placer, | | | | que el que de ti no venga o el que de ti no tome. | | |
|
| Así, día tras día, me sacio y
languidezco, | | | | devorándolo todo o de todo privado. | | |
|
Sonnet
75
|
| So are you to my thoughts as
food to life, | | | | Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the
ground; | | | | And for the peace of you I hold such
strife, | | | | As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is
found. | | |
|
| Now proud as an enjoyer, and
anon |
5 | | | Doubting the filching age will steal his
treasure, | | | | Now ounting best to be with you
alone, | | | | Then better'd that the world may see my
pleasure. | | |
|
| Sometime all full with feasting
on your sight, | | | | And by and by clean starved for a
look, |
10 | | | Possessing or pursuing no
delight | | | | Save what is had, or must from you be
took. | | |
|
| Thuso so I pine and surfeit day
by day, | | | | Or gluttoning on all, or all
away. | | |
|