28 ноября 2012 г.

Soul of Beauty

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'ersnowed 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. 

William Shakespeare Sonnet 5
Translation Samuil Marshak

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