William Shakespeare - Sonnet 5
Those hours, that with gentle work did frame
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell,
Will play the tyrants to the very same
And that unfair which fairly doth excel;
For never-resting time leads summer on
To hideous winter, and confounds him there;
Sap checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o'er-snowed and bareness every where:
Then were not summer's distillation left,
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was:
But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet,
Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.
***
Часы, что в бережном труде
Взор притягательный пробудят,
Растаяют в деспотичном зле,
В бесчестном канут перепутье.
Цветение лета завлечет
Минута в омут охладелый,
Там сок древесный канул в лед,
И зелень снежный плащ надела.
С надеждой в эти времена,
В оковах мерзлого молчания,
Лишь гласом узников стекла
Зашепчет летнее дыхание:
Цветов лишила чар прохлада,
Но жив их трепет аромата.
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