Sonnet no. 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 shall thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,
And Death once dead, there’s no more dying then.

For commentary, visit Shakespeare’s Sonnets.

Italian Translation
German Translation
Russian Translation
French Translation
Dutch Translation
Ukrainian Translation
Spanish Translation
Portuguese Translation

Sonnets in English
Sonnets in Russian
Sonnets in German
Sonnets in Italian
Sonnets in Spanish
Sonnets in French
Sonnets in Ukrainian
Sonnets in Portuguese
Sonnets in Dutch

Добавить комментарий

Ваш e-mail не будет опубликован. Обязательные поля помечены *