Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Sonnet LXX (70)

That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
So thou be good, slander doth but approve
Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time;
For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love,
And thou present'st a pure unstained prime.
Thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days,
Either not assail'd or victor being charged;
Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise,
To tie up envy evermore enlarged:
If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show,
Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe.


1. Blame is no proof of blameworthiness. 

3. Suspicion is so usually associated with beauty that it may be regarded as its wonted ornament. 

5. So thou be good -- If thou be good. 

6. Being woo'd of time. This must be taken, it would seem, with "slander" of line 5. The sense will then be that "slander coming under the soothing influence of time will show thy worth to be greater;" or, "slander will turn to praise in course of time, and your true character will shine forth." Thy at beginning of this line is in Q. "Their." 

For canker vice, &c. This line has been illustrated by "As the most forward bud is eaten by the canker ere it blow," &c., Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act i. sc. I, lines 45, 46. But the "canker vice" of our text is slander or envy. 

9. The ambush of young days. The vices to which youth is prone. 

10. Charg'd. Attacked, assailed. 

11, 12. Yet this praise of thine cannot have such efficacy as to restrain envy, which is ever busy. 

13, 14. If the influence of thy beauty were not abated by evil suspicion all would be devoted to thee. Owe -- Possess, as elsewhere. 

Soneto de amor LXX

Que se hable mal de ti no es tu defecto.
Lo bello siempre es blanco de la insidia
que, como un cuervo en el azul del cielo,
recela del ornato y lo mancilla.
Así, que te difamen es indicio
de tu virtud, que incluso el tiempo anhela:
el chancro adora el brote más tiernito
y tú fuiste una intacta primavera.
Salvaste las primeras emboscadas
incólume o acaso victorioso,
mas no te amparará de la amenaza
creciente de la envidia tanto encomio.
Si mal no suscitase resquemores
caerían a tus pies mil corazones.

Sonnet LXIX (69)

Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view
Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend;
All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due,
Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend.
Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown'd;
But those same tongues that give thee so thine own
In other accents do this praise confound
By seeing farther than the eye hath shown.
They look into the beauty of thy mind,
And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds;
Then, churls, their thoughts, although their eyes were kind,
To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds:
But why thy odour matcheth not thy show,
The solve is this, that thou dost common grow.


4. Even so as foes commend. Meaning, apparently, "for in like manner even foes commend, stinting their praise as much as possible." 

5. Thy. Q. has "Their." 

7. Confound. Abate and nullify. 

8. By seeing farther. As they pretend. 

9. The beauty of thy mind. Said possibly not without a shade of irony. 
10. Thy deeds. As to the general nature of these we can form a probable guess from what had occurred with regard to Shakespeare's mistress. Cf. xlal

11. Their thoughts. The conclusions they formed. 

13. Odour, of course, is "reputation." 

14. The solve, i.e., the solution, the explanation. Q. has "solye," but there can be little doubt that the emendation "solve" is right. 

Soneto de amor LXIX

Ninguna de tus partes a la vista
requiere que el ingenio la componga,
ni hay lengua -voz del alma- que desdiga
tus dones, ni rival que lo desoiga.
Mas siendo que destacas en lo externo,
las lenguas que pregonan tus encantos
enturbian de inmediato sus acentos
al ver donde no alcanza el ojo humano.
Y así pretenden sopesar tu mente
midiendo su belleza por tus actos;
y si antes te admiraron, ahora infieren
que tu preciosa flor hiede a hierbajos.
¿Por qué no va tu aspecto con tu olor?
Te has vuelto público, ésa es la razón.

Sonnet LXVIII (68)

Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn,
When beauty lived and died as flowers do now,
Before the bastard signs of fair were born,
Or durst inhabit on a living brow;
Before the golden tresses of the dead,
The right of sepulchres, were shorn away,
To live a second life on second head;
Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay:
In him those holy antique hours are seen,
Without all ornament, itself and true,
Making no summer of another's green,
Robbing no old to dress his beauty new;
And him as for a map doth Nature store,
To show false Art what beauty was of yore.


1. The map of days outworn. "This pattern of the worn-out age," used of the groom inLucrece, has been compared, as also "Thou map of honour" in King Richard II., Act v. sc. i, line 12. 

3. These bastard signs of fair. This mere artificial appearance of beauty. Bastard. As not truly derived from Nature. 6. The right of sepulchres. Which should have been consigned to the sepulchre, and have remained there. The following passage from the Merchant of Venice, Act iii. sc. 2, lines 92-96, has been justly compared:
"So are those crisped snaky golden locks,
Which make such wanton gambols with the wind,
Upon supposed fairness, often known
To be the dowry of a second head,
The skull that bred them in the sepulchre."

8. Ere beauty's dead fleece, &c., appears to express in other words what had been already said. 

10. Itself would seem to be equivalent to "nature itself." 

12. Robbing no old, &c. These words and the two lines preceding may be taken to explain the "holy" of line 9, which can scarcely be used of moral purity.

Soneto de amor LXVIII

Su cara es, pues, el mapa de esos tiempos
en que lo bello, igual que ahora las flores,
vivía hasta morir, sin que aderezos
bastardos empolvasen las facciones;
de cuando no esquilaban las guedejas
de aquellos que dormían para siempre
por darles otra vida en otra testa,
y a nadie hacía más bello un vello inerte.
Como en las horas sacras del pasado,
en él todo es verdad, sin falsedades:
no hará de un verde ajeno su verano
ni ha de robar vestidos para aviarse.
Natura, así, cual mapa lo atesora:
donde hay belleza pura, huelgan modas.

Sonnet LXVII (67)

Ah! wherefore with infection should he live,
And with his presence grace impiety,
That sin by him advantage should achieve
And lace itself with his society?
Why should false painting imitate his cheek
And steal dead seeing of his living hue?
Why should poor beauty indirectly seek
Roses of shadow, since his rose is true?
Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is,
Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins?
For she hath no exchequer now but his,
And, proud of many, lives upon his gains.
O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had
In days long since, before these last so bad.


3. That sin by him advantage, &c. His presence serving as a veil to conceal corruption. 

4. Lace itself with his society. "Lace" may here mean "embellish," though in passages which have been quoted in proof the sense is rather "diversify." So in Romeo and Juliet., Act iii. sc. 5, lines 7, 8, --
"What envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east;"
and Macbeth, Act ii. sc. 3, lines 117-119, --
"Here lay Duncan,
His silver skin laced with his golden blood;
And his gashed stabs looked like a breach in nature,"  

6. Dead seeing. "Seeing" is equivalent to "appearance." Cf. v. 2, "The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell." The "seeing" is "dead" as not being the result of healthy vitality, but mere imitation. 

7. Poor beauty. Beauty indifferent and imperfect. Indirectly. By artificial means.

8. Shadow. Mere external appearance.

12. Proud of many. On account of their seeming beauty, which, however, is not caused by "blood blushing through lively veins."

Soneto de amor LXVII

¿Por qué ha de sufrir él la corrupción
y honrar con su presencia a la ignominia,
y que el pecado goce del favor
que otorga su graciosa compañía?
¿Por qué debe imitarlo el falso arte,
sacar de su alma viva copia muerta?
¿O la belleza ruin querer buscarle
rosas de sombra si su rosa es cierta?
¿Por qué ha de vivir hoy, cuando Natura
en ruinas le mendiga sangre ardiente?
Sin más aval que el de él y su fortuna,
se jacta pero vive de sus bienes.
Y lo retiene en prueba de que antaño
supo ser rica, en tiempos menos malos.

Sonnet LXVI (66)

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly doctor-like controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.


1. Tir'd with all these, i.e., such things as those which follow. 

2. As. As, for example. Desert a beggar born. Real merit and worth suffering the disqualification of an abjectly mean origin, and restrained by penury. 

3. This line probably refers to what is commonly described as "keeping up an appearance." 

4. Unhappily forsworn. Through the pressure of circumstances (as seems likely) in an evil world. 

5. Gilded honour shamefully misplaced. Cf. Ecclesiastes x. 5, 6, "There is an evil which I have seen under the sun, as an error which proceedeth from the ruler. Folly is set in great dignity." &c. 

6. Rudely. Either of physical force, or of the recklessness of slander; but the latter sense would seem to agree with the next line. 

8. Strength by limping sway disabled. Describes the injury inflicted by an incompetent and feeble government. 

9, 10. In these lines there seem to be allusions to universities and their technical phraseology. This view accords with the use of doctor-like, and line 9 (where art will denote "learning") may be taken to refer to opinions obnoxious to those in authority being forbidden to be expressed and published. 

12. This is a climax. Evil is a victorious captain, with Good as a captive attending to grace his triumph. 

Soneto de amor LXVI

Que venga ya la muerte: estoy cansado
de ver hecho un mendigo al que más vale,
y que el don nadie vista con boato,
y al cándido lo engañe el miserable,
y que el honor recaiga en el indigno,
y que el perfecto sufra la desdicha,
y la doncella se hunda en el ludibrio,
y al fuerte lo invaliden las intrigas,
y que la autoridad censure el arte,
y la locura cure lo sensato,
y tachen de simpleza a las verdades,
y viva el bien cautivo de lo malo.
Mas en la muerte no hallaré reposo
si, muerto yo, mi amor se queda solo.

Sonnet LXV (65)

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality o'er-sways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out
Against the wreckful siege of battering days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack,
Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O, none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

Soneto de amor LXV

Si ni la piedra, el bronce, el mar, la tierra,
se libran de la triste destrucción,
¿cómo ha de hacerle frente la belleza,
que apenas tiene el brío de una flor?
¿Y qué opondrá el aliento veraniego
al despiadado embate de los días,
si el Tiempo tumba pórticos de hierro
y ni la roca aguanta su embestida?
¡Cruel desazón! Pues, ¿quién podrá evitar
que el Tiempo encofre su mejor alhaja?
¿Qué mano detendrá su pie fugaz.
librando a la belleza de su azada?
No salvará a mi amor sino un milagro:
que impreso en tinta negra brille tanto.

Sonnet LXIV (64)

When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced
The rich proud cost of outworn buried age;
When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage;
When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,
And the firm soil win of the watery main,
Increasing store with loss and loss with store;
When I have seen such interchange of state,
Or state itself confounded to decay;
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate,
That Time will come and take my love away.
This thought is as a death, which cannot choose
But weep to have that which it fears to lose.


2. The sumptuous buildings or other appurtenances of a generation or a people which has decayed and passed away, and which is now buried in the dust. 

4. Mortal rage. Deadly, destroying. "Mortal rage" refers to the supreme principle of Mutability and Decay. 

5-8. The words of K. Hen. IV., Part II., Act III. sc. i, lines 45-51, have been justly compared:
"O God, that one might read the book of fate,
And see the revolution of the times
Make mountains level, and the continent,
Weary of solid firmness, melt itself
Into the sea! and other times, to see
The beachy girdle of the ocean
Too wide for Neptune's hips," &c.
The following lines from Tennyson's In Memoriam, written, probably, to some extent, under Shakespearean influence, may also be given:
"There rolls the deep where grew the tree,
O earth, what changes hast thou seen!
There where the long street roars hath been
The stillness of the central sea.

The hills are shadows, and they flow
From form to form, and nothing stands;
They melt like mist, the solid lands,
Like clouds they shape themselves and go."
8. Extending its own domain by what the other loses, and losing by what the other gains. 

10. State. Magnificence, though in the previous line "state" seems to mean "condition." 

13. This thought is as a death. Causing anticipatively the pang of separation. 

Soneto de amor LXIV

A ver que el Tiempo y su vil mano borran
la augusta pompa de las viejas ruinas,
la torre más altiva se desploma
y el bronce eterno es siervo de la ira;
que el mar en su avidez gana terreno
al reino de la costa y, a su vez,
la tierra firme extiende al mar su reino
de modo que, al ganar, vuelve a perder;
al ver que se intercambian los estados
o que el estado se hunde sin razón,
he de esperar que el Tiempo y su vil mano
vendrán a despojarme de mi amor.
Saberlo ya es morir y sólo queda
llorar por conservar lo que se pierda.

Sonnet LXIII (63)

Against my love shall be, as I am now,
With Time's injurious hand crush'd and o'er-worn;
When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his brow
With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn
Hath travell'd on to age's steepy night,
And all those beauties whereof now he's king
Are vanishing or vanish'd out of sight,
Stealing away the treasure of his spring;
For such a time do I now fortify
Against confounding age's cruel knife,
That he shall never cut from memory
My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life:
His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,
And they shall live, and he in them still green.

Soneto de amor LXIII

A cuenta de que sufra como yo
la acción demoledora y ruin del Tiempo
y que las horas sangren su expresión,
sembrándola de arrugas, o que el tierno
albor de su mañana se haga noche
abrupta y las bellezas que hoy gobierna
se hayan disipado o se evapore,
quitándole a mi amor su primavera;
a cuenta de ese día me aseguro
de que el cuchillo cruel de la vejez
no corte del recuerdo de este mundo
la vida y la belleza de mi bien.
En estas líneas vive tu beldad,
que, si ellas viven, reverdecerá.

Sonnet LXII (62)

Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye
And all my soul and all my every part;
And for this sin there is no remedy,
It is so grounded inward in my heart.
Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,
No shape so true, no truth of such account;
And for myself mine own worth do define,
As I all other in all worths surmount.
But when my glass shows me myself indeed,
Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity,
Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;
Self so self-loving were iniquity.
'Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise,
Painting my age with beauty of thy days.


5. So gracious. Displaying such grace or beauty.

6. No symmetry of form equally perfect and admirable with mine.
10. Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity. Meaning, probably, battered, wrinkled, and darkened, or discoloured, bronzed. 

11. The poet then comes to a totally different opinion concerning his self-love. It was in reality love of thee (13).

12. It would be "iniquity" for the poet to admire and esteem his beauty after the revelation made by the mirror.

Soneto de amor LXII

Pequé de amarme a mí con todo empeño,
con todo mi ojo, mi alma y con mi mente,
y ese pecado arraiga tan adentro
que no hay ninguna cura que lo enmiende.
Creí que no había rostro como el mío
ni nadie con un porte tan donoso
y me juzgué a mí mismo, convencido
de que era superior a cualquier otro.
Mas cuando en el espejo veo mi cara
curtida y maltratada por los años,
entonces mi lectura es la contraria
y considero inicuo amarme tanto.
Y así te alabo en mí, por si pudiera
pintar mi edad con tu belleza fresca.

Sonnet LXI (61)

Is it thy will thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?
Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee
So far from home into my deeds to pry,
To find out shames and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenor of thy jealousy?
O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great:
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake;
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake:
For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,
From me far off, with others all too near.

Soneto de amor LXI

¿Qué quieres, que mis párpados pesados
acechen en la noche fatigosa?
¿Que viva sin soñar, buscando en vano
vestigios de tu imagen en las sombras?
¿O acaso enviaste a tu alma a que observara
mis actos, donde vaya, por si viese
indicios de perfidias o de holganza?
¿Tan fuertes son los celos que me tienes?
¡Qué va! Tu amor, que es mucho, no es tan grande:
mi amor es el que me mantiene en vilo,
mi amor, que ha de impedirme que descanse
pues él es quien vigila tu camino.
Yo a ti te observo mientras tú despiertas
lejos de mí, mas de otros, ay, muy cerca.

Monday, November 25, 2013

Sonnet LX (60)

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.


5. The main of light. The expanse of light; the world conceived as though a wide ocean enlightened by the rays of the sun. 

6. Crawls to maturity. Meaning, probably, not merely that the progress is slow, but that the condition of mankind is abject. Cf. Hamlet, Act III. sc. I, lines 129-131, "What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven?" 

7. Crooked eclipses. Adverse circumstances and conditions, which are "crooked," as being hostile to onward progress, changing its course, or arresting it. 

8. Doth now his gift confound. Spoil and render worthless his gift. Cf. v. 6. 

9. Doth transfix the flourish set on youth. Doth kill and destroy youthful beauty. 

11. Feeds on, &c. Feeds on whatever is pre-eminently excellent. Nature's truth. That which is naturally and genuinely beautiful and excellent, as opposed to what is meretricious and artificial. 

Soneto de amor LX

Se afanan por llegar, nuestros minutos,
como olas a la orilla, a su final,
y cada cual reemplaza al que, a su turno,
luchaba para no quedarse atrás.
Primera luz, el nacimiento avanza
hacia la madurez, donde se enciende;
eclipses zafios lidian con su estampa
y el tiempo le reclama su presente.
El tiempo, que sustrae la lozanía,
socava la belleza con arrugas,
se nutre de lo extraño de la vida
y si algo se resiste, su hoz lo trunca.
No obstante espero que su mano cruel
deje a mi verso en pie, y a ti con él.

Sonnet LIX (59)

If there be nothing new, but that which is
Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled,
Which, labouring for invention, bear amiss
The second burden of a former child.
O, that record could with a backward look,
Even of five hundred courses of the sun,
Show me your image in some antique book,
Since mind at first in character was done!
That I might see what the old world could say
To this composed wonder of your frame;
Whether we are mended, or whe'er better they,
Or whether revolution be the same.
O, sure I am, the wits of former days
To subjects worse have given admiring praise.


If there be nothing new (1): Compare Ecclesiastes 1.9: "The thing that hath been is that which shall be; and that which hath been done is that which shall be done; and there is no new thing under the sun."

beguiled (2): deceived.

labouring for invention (3): the birth pains of a new creation.

brains...former child (2-4): an extended metaphor describing the poet's brain as a mother's womb, labouring to bring forth original verse only to mistakenly write something ("second burden") that has already been written ("former child"), as if the mother had suffered two bouts of labour to give birth to the same child twice. 

record (5): memory.

five hundred courses of the sun (6): i.e., (by metonymy) five hundred years.

character (8): writing.

composed wonder of your frame (10): wonderful composition of your body (like the structure of a beautiful sonnet).

mended (11): improved.

whe'er (11): whether.

To subjects worse...praise (14): i.e., surely, no poet of old ever had a more worthy subject than the one I have.

Soneto de amor LIX

Si nada es nuevo y todo cuanto hay
ya había sido antes, nos preñamos
de engaño por parir una vez más
a un niño ya nacido en el pasado.
Habría que buscar en los registros
de cinco veces cien años solares
hasta encontrar tu imagen en un libro,
pues todo se apuntaba en los anales,
y así saber qué piensan los remotos
del marco portentoso de tu cuerpo:
si son mejores ellos o nosotros
o todo ha regresado con el tiempo.
Seguro que el ingenio del ayer
untó modelos peores con su miel.

Sonnet LVIII (58)

That god forbid that made me first your slave,
I should in thought control your times of pleasure,
Or at your hand the account of hours to crave,
Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure!
O, let me suffer, being at your beck,
The imprison'd absence of your liberty;
And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each cheque,
Without accusing you of injury.
Be where you list, your charter is so strong
That you yourself may privilege your time
To what you will; to you it doth belong
Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime.
I am to wait, though waiting so be hell;
Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well.

Soneto de amor LVIII

El mismo dios que me hizo ser tu esclavo
prohibió que mida el tiempo de tus goces
o inquiera si computas esos ratos.
¡Soy tu vasallo: cumplo y tú dispones!
Oh, déjame que, a tu servicio, sufra
tu libertad ausente, que es mi cárcel
y, lejos de acusarte a ti de injuria,
soporte con paciencia tus desplantes.
Ve donde quieras que, con tanta venia,
podrás beneficiarte a tu albedrío
y a tiempo entero: tienes la licencia
de perdonarte el crimen cometido.
Yo espero, aunque la espera sea un infierno,
sin cuestionar tu goce, malo o bueno.

Sonnet LVII (57)

Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time* at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu;
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought
Save, where you are how happy you make those.
So true a fool is love that in your will,
Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.

Soneto de amor LVII

¿Qué hacer, si soy tu esclavo, que no sea
cumplir con tu deseo a todas horas?
Mi tiempo no es precioso ni me queda
más dicha que servir lo que dispongas.
Pendiente del reloj por ti, monarca,
ni le reprocho al tiempo que sea eterno
ni pienso ene que la ausencia será amarga
el día que despidas a tu siervo,
ni dejo que mis celos se hagan cargo
de dónde estás y en cuál de tus asuntos.
No pienso, triste esclavo, en nada salvo
que, donde estés, harás feliz a muchos.
Qué ingenuo es el amor, que no se ofende
aunque hagas lo que quieras cuando quieres.

Sonnet LVI (56)

Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said
Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd,
To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might:
So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill
Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness,
To-morrow see again, and do not kill
The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness.
Let this sad interim like the ocean be
Which parts the shore, where two contracted new
Come daily to the banks, that, when they see
Return of love, more blest may be the view;
Else call it winter, which being full of care
Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare.

Soneto de amor LVI

Reponte, dulce amor, que no se diga
que no eres tan punzante como el hambre,
que pese a que se sacia cada día,
despunta al día siguiente igual de grande.
Por eso, amor, aunque hoy tus ojos queden
ahitos de comer hasta el agobio,
mañana vuelve a abrirlos si no quieres
matar de tedio el hálito amoroso.
Hagamos de esta triste ausencia un mar
que parte en dos la costa donde a diario
acuden las dos partes a esperar
la vuelta del amor revificado:
Así el invierno y su rigor consiguen
hacer que ansiemos el verano el triple.

Sonnet LV (55)

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone besmear'd with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So, till the judgment that yourself arise,
You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.

Soneto de amor LV

Ni el mármol ni los regios monumentos
son más indestructibles que estas rimas;
tú brillarás en ellas cuando el tiempo
desgaste, vil, las piedras que ahora brillan.
Y si la guerra tumba las estatuas
y las murallas ceden a la horda,
ni el fuego atroz ni Marte con su espada
impedirán que viva tu memoria.
Harás frente a la muerte y al olvido
ay aumentarás tu crédito a los ojos
de la posteridad, que sin respiro
hace rodar al mundo ante su trono.
Pues hasta que en juicio no levantes,
tú vivirás aquí y en los que se amen.

Sonnet LIV (54)

O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem, 
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem 
For that sweet odour which doth in it live. 
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye 
As the perfumed tincture of the roses, 
Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly 
When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:
But, for their virtue only is their show, 
They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, 
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; 
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:
   And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
   When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth. 


8. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye. If, as seems to be the case, the "canker-bloom" is the dog-rose, then, as Steevens remarks, there is an inconsistency in the statement of the text, since the dog-rose is of a pale colour, and, moreover, is not entirely without odour. 

6. Perfumed tincture of the roses. The roses, with their perfume and colour. "Tincture" is equivalent to the "dye" of the previous line. 

11. Die to themselves. The "canker-blooms" die neglected and unregarded. 

14. Vade. So Q. Dowden, adopting this form, refers to Passionate Pilgrim, x. i, "Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon vaded."

Soneto de amor LIV

¡Oh, cuánto más reluce la beldad
si la verdad con su dulzor la adorna!
La rosa es grata pero lo es aún más
por el aroma dulce que la colma.
El tinte intenso del escaramujo
es como el de la rosa perfumada,
presenta espinas y se mece al bufo
más tórrido, que lo desenmascara;
y ya, sin más virtud que su envoltura,
no es festejado, languidece y muere
a solas. Mas las dulces rosas, nunca;
se hacen aromas de su dulce muerte.
Así, cuando tu plenitud decrezca,
vendrá mi verso a destilar tu esencia.

Sonnet LIII (53)

What is your substance, whereof are you made, 
That millions of strange shadows on you tend? 
Since every one hath, every one, one shade, 
And you, but one, can every shadow lend. 
Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit 
Is poorly imitated after you; 
On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set,
And you in Grecian tires are painted new: 
Speak of the spring and foison of the year; 
The one doth shadow of your beauty show, 
The other as your bounty doth appear, 
And you in every blessed shape we know. 
   In all external grace you have some part, 
   But you like none, none you, for constant heart.


2. Strange shadows. Images of other persons and objects. Shadows and images are taken as identical.

3. Each individually has one shadow. The expression in the text is emphatic, to contrast with the multitudinous shadows caused by, or connected with, the single Mr. W. H. (line 4). 

5. The counterfeit. The description, as possibly also in Hamlet (Act iii. sc. 4, line 54), "the counterfeit presentment of two brothers." 

7. Depict Helen with all the skill of pictorial art. 

8. Grecian tires. Grecian head-dress properly, though here the word "tires" would seem to be used more generally. Notice, however, from the comparison with Helen, the feminine character of Mr. W. H.'s youthful beauty. 

Soneto de amor LIII

¿De qué estás hecho tú, de qué sustancia,
que puedes conformar mil y una sombras?
Cada uno es de una forma que no cambia;
en cambio tú eres de una y de mil formas.
Al describir a Adonis, su retrato
será una pobre copia de tu imagen;
si a Helena y sus mejillas esbozamos,
a ti de joven griego hay que pintarte.
Hablemos de cosecha y primavera:
la una recompensa tu derroche,
la otra plasma el don de tu belleza
y en toda forma se te reconoce.
Si en toda gracia externa tienes parte,
no hay una con tu corazón constante.