Adam, Barnett Newman, 1951-2
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 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
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:
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.
William Shakespeare, Sonnet CXLI
William Shakespeare, Sonnet CXLI
4 comentários:
Though I be weary, sore from moving day
Thy thought and image can my pain allay
Sleep would do to thee what thy soul requests
Rest the limbs, whilst dreams the mind caress
My mind is free to wander through the night,
And search for you through what the day did take.
With chance it would succeed, yet only might;
Much safer still to find you while awake.
Your mind indeed may wonder in its might
Though mine is not too worried I must say
Be sure to keep thy feline friends in sight
Pat them gently and purr the night away
Enviar um comentário