ÑÎÍÅÒ 116

ÑÎÍÅÒ 116
Ìåøàòü ñîåäèíåíüþ äâóõ ñåðäåö
ß íå íàìåðåí. Ìîæåò ëè èçìåíà
Ëþáâè áåçìåðíîé ïîëîæèòü êîíåö?
Ëþáîâü íå çíàåò óáûëè è òëåíà.

Ëþáîâü — íàä áóðåé ïîäíÿòûé ìàÿê,
Íå ìåðêíóùèé âî ìðàêå è òóìàíå.
Ëþáîâü — çâåçäà, êîòîðîþ ìîðÿê
Îïðåäåëÿåò ìåñòî â îêåàíå.

Ëþáîâü — íå êóêëà æàëêàÿ â ðóêàõ
Ó âðåìåíè, ñòèðàþùåãî ðîçû
Íà ïëàìåííûõ óñòàõ è íà ùåêàõ,
È íå ñòðàøíû åé âðåìåíè óãðîçû.

À åñëè ÿ íå ïðàâ è ëæ¸ò ìîé ñòèõ,
Òî íåò ëþáâè — è íåò ñòèõîâ ìîèõ!

Ïåðåâîä Ñ.Ìàðøàêà

SONNET 116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov'd,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
William Shakespeare