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Sonnet 32 by William Shakespeare
If thou survive my well-contented day,
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,
Compare them with the bett'ring of the time,
And though they be outstripped by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
Exceeded by the height of happier men.
O! then vouchsafe me but this loving thought:
'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age,
A dearer birth than this his love had brought,
To march in ranks of better equipage:
But since he died and poets better prove,
Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love'.
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32. szonett (Fordította: Győri Vilmos és Szász Károly)
Ha jól eltöltött éltemet tul-éled,
S rám zord halál borítja föld porát;
S véletlenül ha újra megszemléled
Elhunyt hived sok nyers, szegény sorát:
Mérd a tökélyhez mit a kor elért,
S bár mindenik toll túlszárnyalta már,
Tartsd meg, szerelmemért, s nem rímökért,
Mit mesteribb kéz jobban eltalál.
S csak e nyájas szót szenteld nékem akkor:
Hivem szerelme jobb terméket ad
Ha ugy fejlik múzsája mint ez a kor,
S ő is jelesbek sorában halad.
Hogy ő elhalt, ma jobb költők művéhez
Szépségök vonz; szerelme, az övéhez.
#poetry #poem #actorsreadingpoetry
