Originale | Traduzione russa (traslitterato) di Boris Pasternak ‎da The Lied,... |
SONET 66 (TIRED WITH ALL THESE, FOR RESTFUL DEATH I CRY) | SONET LXVI |
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Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, | Izmuchas' vsem, ja umeret' khochu. |
As, to behold desert a beggar born, | Toska smotret', kak majetsja bednjak |
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, | I kak, shutja, zhivjotsja bogachu, |
And purest faith unhappily forsworn, | I doverjat', i popadat' vprosak; |
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced, | I nabljudat', kak naglost' lezet v svet, |
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, | I chest' devich'ja katitsja ko dnu. |
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, | I znat', chto khodu sovershenstvam net, |
And strength by limping sway disabled, | I videt' moshch' u nemoshchi v plenu, |
And art made tongue-tied by authority, | I vspominat', chto mysli zamknut rot, |
And folly doctor-like controlling skill, | I razum snosit gluposti khulu, |
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, | I prjamodush'je prostotoj slyvjot, |
And captive good attending captain ill: | I dobrota prisluzhivajet zlu. |
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, | Izmuchas' vsem, ne stal by zhit' i dnja, |
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone. | Da drugu budet trudno bez menja. |