  2139.     (2).  
 


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  2139.     (2)

 



 



 ,2019



ISBN978-5-4496-4331-5 (. 2)

ISBN978-5-4496-3971-4

     Ridero







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 1.   2139





 1.  2136.    


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21


  ,      堖 So is it not with me as with that Muse.

Ƞ      ,      .

    蠖 Πlet me, true inlove, but truly write,   堫   Making acouplement ofproud compare.

		 21.  
		So is it not with me as with that Muse,
		Stirred byapainted beauty tohis verse,
		Who heaven itself for ornament dothuse,
		And every fair with his fair doth rehearse,
		Making acouplement ofproud compare
		With sun and moon, with earth and seas rich gems,
		With Aprils first-born flowers, and all thingsrare
		That heavens air inthis huge rondure hems.
		Πlet me, true inlove, but truly write,
		And then believe me, my love is asfair
		As any mothers child, though not so bright
		As those gold candles fixed inheavensair:
		Let them say more that like ofhearsay well,
		Iwill not praise that purpose not tosell.

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22


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		 22.  
		My glass shall not persuade me Iamold,
		So long as youth and thou are ofone date,
		But when inthee times furrows Ibehold,
		Then look Ideath my days should expiate:
		For all that beauty that doth coverthee
		Is but the seemly raiment ofmy heart,
		Which inthy breast doth live, as thine inme.
		How can Ithen be elder than thouart?
		Πtherefore, love, be ofthyself sowary
		As Inot for myself but for thee will,
		Bearing thy heart, which Iwill keep so chary
		As tender nurse her babe from faringill:
		Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain;
		Thou gavst me thine, not togive back again

 ,   ,   ,   . ,  ,   ,     젖  蠖 my heart, Which inthy breast doth live, as thine inme.          ,     ,        Thou gavst me thine, not togive back again.  ,     ,    1819. , ,   ,     .

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23


   ,     2136 .   20   ,  ,        .         렖 forget tosay The perfect ceremony ofloves rite.

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		 23.  
		As an imperfect actor on the stage,
		Who with his fear is put besides his part,
		Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
		Whose strengths abundance weakens his own heart;
		So I, for fear oftrust, forget tosay
		The perfect ceremony ofloves rite,
		And inmine own loves strength seem todecay,
		Oercharged with burden ofmine own loves might:
		Πlet my looks be then the eloquence
		And dumb presagers ofmy speaking breast,
		Who plead for love, and look for recompense,
		More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
		Πlearn toread what silent love hath writ:
		Tohear with eyes belongs toloves finewit.

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24


   .    ,      젖 Thy beautys form intable ofmy heart; My body is the frame wherein tis held, ,     20,     .




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   .

   ,     (https://www.litres.ru/aleksandr-skalv/sonety-shekspira-21-39-s-veroy-v-nevozmozhnoe-2-istoriches/)  .

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