Когда наступит мой последний день
И тлен коснется огрубевшей кожи,
Я буду умолять, склонясь, как тень, -
Прочти мои признания без дрожи!
Просты и безыскусны пусть они,
Наполненные искренностью строки,
Но ты, молю, надёжно сохрани
Их вещий смысл, лет отменив упреки.
А если я тебе пригрежусь вдруг,
То не рыдай о рыцаре влюблённом,
А заполняй обычным свой досуг,
Свой шарм даря коленопреклонённым:
За слог моим соперникам воздай,
Меня же - за порыв души читай!
Подлинник
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 bettering of the time,
And though they be outstripp'd 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.