Edizioni del Cubo

La tartaruga nel pozzo    Familiares    Il paese dellInvenzione    La Citt delle Bave   
Ritratti    Che classe!    Le occasioni e altro (senza bufera)   
Niente, di nuovo    Niente, da ridere    Che scienza!    Li ho parAmati tutti   
Le donne, gli amor
XXV aprile    Forza, Italia    Galileiana   
KArloVAFISciando   


ANCA UÌLIAM
SE FÉA I SO SONETI

I sonetti di Shakespeare intel diaèto de Carlo Dariol
(2018)

sonetto 1
From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:

But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed'st thy light'st flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.

Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content
And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding.

Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee
   
Ae creature p be ghe domandn fii
parch a rosa de a beza no more,
ma quando ormai sfiora la cascar
che posse el so but continuar a so memoria:

ma ti, devoto sol che ai to splendenti oci,
te nutre a fiama de a to luce brusndote
assando carestia l dove che  bondanza,
ti, crudel verso el to bel ti da mtarlo de bando.

Dess che te s del mondo el fresco ornamento
e unico araldo de a bea primavera,
intel to stess but te sfega a to semenza
e ti, tacagno, da becanot tut te assa in tera.

Abbi piet del mondo o te te far cuss pass
da divorar co a to mort quel che al mondo  dov.
sonetto 2
When forty winters shall beseige thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held:

Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes,
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.

How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use,
If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,'
Proving his beauty by succession thine!

This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.
   
Quando quaranta inverni a to front i var segn
e scav intel canp de a to beza col varsor,
a gran veste de a to zovent, dess tant ammira,
sar considerada un straz de nessun vaeor:

co te vegnesse domand:  E to beze dove stae
e dove seo pers l amor de a to zovent vigorosa?,
ammettar che li  in fondo ae to orbite incave
sare vanto deficiente e vergogna penosa.

Oh, quante p lodi vare l uso de a to beza
se te podesse risponda: Sta me bea creatura
pareja el me conto e giustifica a me stancheza,
dimostrando che la  a to beza quea che dura!

Questo sare essar novo al tenpo del congedo
e vedar caldo el to sangue quando te sar fredo.
sonetto 3
Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another;
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.

For where is she so fair whose unear'd womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
Or who is he so fond will be the tomb
Of his self-love, to stop posterity?

Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime:
So thou through windows of thine age shall see
Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.

But if thou live, remember'd not to be,
Die single, and thine image dies with thee.
   
Vrdate al specio e dighe al muso che te vede
che ormai  tempo de frghene n altro:
se nova frescheza no te ghe concede
te ingana el mondo e te delude qualche mare.

Esiste qualche a cuss bea che nissun tronba
e che disdegne el seme de a to viriit?
O qualche lu tant mat da vor essar a tonba
del proprio amor par no ver posterit?

Ti te s el specio de to mare, e a in ti
rivede el bel April de a so primavera,
cuss ti dae vetrate de a to sera te rivedar,
a dispet dee rughe, sto to tenpo de luce vera.

Ma se te vol vivar senza essar ricord,
aeora mri mul, e a to somejanza co ti morir.
sonetto 4
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend
Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy?
Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend,
And being frank she lends to those are free.

Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse
The bounteous largess given thee to give?
Profitless usurer, why dost thou use
So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live?

For having traffic with thyself alone,
Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.
Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone,
What acceptable audit canst thou leave?

Thy unused beauty must be tomb'd with thee,
Which, used, lives th' executor to be.
   
Prodiga grazia, par cossa spnditu
tut par ti el patrimonio de a to beza?
I doni de a natura no li  che un prstio
e, generosa, a li presta ai generosi.

Quindi, parch te abusa, peociosa serpe,
dee generose offerte date par essar done?
Strozzin mona, parch te sperpera
lenorme richeza senza che a viva te ghe a fae?

Specueando soltanto che pal to afar
te ciava a to bea persona del to io
e quando a natura te ciamar par ndar
che vida prova poratu assar indro?

A to intie beza dovar essar sepua co ti;
se inveze te a usar, a testimoniar senpre de ti.
sonetto 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 cheque'd with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o'ersnow'd 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 distill'd though they with winter meet,
Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.
   
E ore che co deicato lavoro  dat forma
al bel senbiante che ogni ocio inbaucha,
sar inplacbii col frut de a so orma
e far brut quel che prima splenda:

parch el tenpo che no se ferma mai guida list
verso l inverno brut e l la sofga;
linfa streta dal jaz e foje in qua e in l,
beze sepue da neve e squaeor in ogni piega.

Se donca no restesse lessenza de list,
liquida prigioniera fra pareti de vero,
i efeti de a beza finire co ea
e del ricordo no restare gnanca l pavero:

ma i fiori distii, anca se scoti dal inverno,
i perde sol che laparenza: el profumo vive in eterno.
sonetto 6
Then let not winter's ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd.

That use is not forbidden usury,
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That's for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;

Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee:
Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?

Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair
To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.
   
No sta assar che a rspega man del inverno scarte
in ti a to ist, prima de verla distiada:
rendi dolze na bozeta; meti da qualche parte
el tesoro de a to beza prima che a vegne desfada.

No l  usura, no l  intaresse proibo
quel che fa contento chi paga el prstio voss;
stessa roba sare par ti procrear n altro ti
e diese volte mejo se el te rendesse diese par un.

Diese volte p contento de quel che te s te sare 
se diese dei tui diese volte te raffiguresse:
e che poder vare a mort, se te dovesse morir
ma vivo inte a posterit a te assesse?

No sta essar testardo, te si massa bel, vditu,
par essar preda de a morte e far i vermi to eredi.
sonetto 7
Lo! in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks his sacred majesty;

And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling strong youth in his middle age,
yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage;

But when from highmost pitch, with weary car,
Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day,
The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are
From his low tract and look another way:

So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon,
Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son.
   
Varda: quando a bea luce a oriente in fasse
alza a so testa infogada, ogni ocio zo qua
fa i ossequi a vision che nasse,
seguendo co riverenza a so sacra maest;

e po che la  scae el mont ceste che su indreza,
ricordando a forte zovent intel fior del majo,
ancora ocie morti ghe adora a beza
scortndoea devote dro el so aureo pegrinajo.

Ma quando dal punto p alt, sul so caro, straca
come un vecio strac, a se staca dal giorno,
i oci, prima rispetosi, dess i se staca
dal percorso che cea e i se varda torno.

Cuss ti, negando ti stess intel to mezzod,
te morir desmenteg se no t un putn.
sonetto 8
Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
Why lovest thou that which thou receivest not gladly,
Or else receivest with pleasure thine annoy?

If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,
By unions married, do offend thine ear,
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.

Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering,
Resembling sire and child and happy mother
Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing:

Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee: 'thou single wilt prove none'.
Ti, musica, parch te scolta a to musica triste?
el dolze no fa guera al dolze, de gioie a gioia 
					se dileta.
Perch a scoltar calcossa de noioso te insiste,
o forse atu piazer dea to strofa noioseta?

Se l suono armonioso de note ben accorde
in perfetto assieme offende e to recie,
lore, dolzi, te accusa parch te fa ugue
quel che che te dovare dividar par specie.

Varda come ogni corda, dolze maro a chealtra tata
vibra questa co quel in ordine che se corisponde,
da senbrar pare e fiol e mare beata
che tuti insieme canta a stessa bea canzon:

e so mute vosi, pur tante, le senbra una,
e lore te canta: Da sol no ti si nissun.
sonetto 9
Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye
That thou consumest thyself in single life?
Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die.
The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife;

The world will be thy widow and still weep
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep
By children's eyes her husband's shape in mind.

Look, what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,
And kept unused, the user so destroys it.

No love toward others in that bosom sits
That on himself such murderous shame commits.
o par paura de inumidir de na vedova i oci
che te te consuma inte na vita da mueatn?
Ah, se te capitar de morir senza bce
el mondo te pianzar come na mujer senza n;

el mondo sar a to vdova e senpre lamentar
che ti nissuna forma de ti te epie ass indro,
invece ogni altra vedova a mente tegnar
nei oci dei fii e senbianze del maro.

Bada, quel che un spendacion sperpera pal mondo
canbia sol de posto, parch el mondo ancora lo gode;
ma el spreco de a beza su a tera l  l so fondo
e tegnndoea da usar, chi la possiede la distrude.

No  amor verso chealtri intel cuor 
chi che comete su de lu sto criminal disonor.
sonetto 10
For shame! deny that thou bear'st love to any,
Who for thyself art so unprovident.
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lovest is most evident;

For thou art so possess'd with murderous hate
That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire.
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire.

O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind!
Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?
Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind,
Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove:

Make thee another self, for love of me,
That beauty still may live in thine or thee.
 infamia che te neghe el to amor a chealtri
ti che par ti stess ti s cussi poc previdente.
Se pol anca dir, se te vol, che ti s am da tanti,
ma che ti no te ame nissun l  ancora p evidente:

te s possed da tant odio che buta fora
che gnanca contra de ti te rinuncia a tramar,
portando in rovina a bea dimora
che dovare essar to desiderio rinsaldar.

Canbia i to pensieri, ch mi posse canbiar el me sentir!
Deve essar l odio alogi mejo del amor?
Sii, come che  a to persona, de sest e gente
o prova, a ti stess almanco, el to nbie cuor:

fa che epie vita n altro ti, par amor de mi,
parch a to beza posse sopravviva intel tuo o in ti.
sonetto 11
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou growest
In one of thine, from that which thou departest;
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestowest
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.

Herein lives wisdom, beauty and increase:
Without this, folly, age and cold decay:
If all were minded so, the times should cease
And threescore year would make the world away.

Let those whom Nature hath not made for store,
Harsh featureless and rude, barrenly perish:
Look, whom she best endow'd she gave the more;
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish:

She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby
Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.
Man man che te invecia, te ricresse
in uno de quei da cui te te separa,
e chel fresco sangue che in zovent te vesse
dispens, te podar ciamarlo tuo co te taca inveciar.

In questo sta saviezza, beza, richezze aumente:
sin la  follia, veciaia e decadenza:
se ognun pensesse cuss, el tenpo finire
e in trenta ani el mondo ndare in semenza.

Assa chi no  stat scelt daa Natura a procrear 
sgrazi, deforme e grezo  morir senza fioi:
se a gh dat a qualcun, co ti a s dat p da far
e el dono generoso te dovare ver caro:

a t cre par so stanp e a intenda co quel
che te ghe ne stanpesse altri, no che te perdesse 
				el model.
sonetto 12
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white;

When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,

Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;

And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
Quando conte e ore che el tenpo bate
e vede el giorno luminoso stu inte na note de fango,
quando vede a viea marzir tra que massa fate
e rizi neri strii de bianco,

quando vede senza foje i alberi sgrandazoni 
che un d dal caldo i va protet e pigore
e e erbe dist fate-su in covoni
porte su cari, irte de bianche e ispide roe,

aeora, so a to beza el pensier me fae
che tra e rovine del tenpo te te a cior,
parch beze e grazie e vien ribandonae
e le more al veda altre che cresse qua:

e gnent por salvarse daa lama del Tenpo,
sol na semenza che lo sfide quando el te falciar.
sonetto 13
O, that you were yourself! but, love, you are
No longer yours than you yourself here live:
Against this coming end you should prepare,
And your sweet semblance to some other give.

So should that beauty which you hold in lease
Find no determination: then you were
Yourself again after yourself's decease,
When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.

Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
Which husbandry in honour might uphold
Against the stormy gusts of winter's day
And barren rage of death's eternal cold?

O, none but unthrifts! Dear my love, you know
You had a father: let your son say so.
Oh, se ti te fusse tuo! Ma, amor, ti no te sar
tuo p del tenpo che te vivar zo qua:
pareciarte a sta inconbente fine te dovare 
e darghe a qualcun altro a to dolze senbianza.

Cuss che a beza che t vu in sort
no a epie fine: aeora eco che te tornare
a essar ti da novo anca dopo a to mort,
parch el to bel but replicar a to bea forma.

Chi pore assar na s bea casa cascar in rovina
quando un bon governo dovara inveze farla p forte
contro e tenpeste dei d dinverno
e contro a rabia ingrata del fredo eterno de a mort?

Oh, sol un strapazon! Caro amor mio, ti te o sa
de ver v un pare: fa che to fiol posse dir istess.
sonetto 14
Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck;
And yet methinks I have astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;

Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well,
By oft predict that I in heaven find:

But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive,
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;

Or else of thee this I prognosticate:
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.
I me giudizi no li cave dae ste o daa luna,
epur me par de capir lastrologia,
ma no par predir bona o cativa fortuna,
pestinze, carestie o stajon foravia;

e no so predir el destin ai minuti che scanpa
segnaeando a ognun lanpi, piova e vento
o coi prncipi sver se i var bona vanpa
grazie ai presagi che in ciel me invente.

Ma  dai to oci che cave el me saver
e, ste costanti, in lori leze a me arte:
virt e beza prosperar ch un piazer
se intun bel vivaio te savar trasformarte;

diversamente, de ti fae sta profezia:
co a to mort ogni virt e beza sar fina.
sonetto 15
When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;

When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheered and cheque'd even by the self-same sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;

Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay,
To change your day of youth to sullied night;

And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
Quando pense che ogni roba che cresse
resta perfeta sol che par pochi momenti,
e sta immensa scena ne ofre sol che onbre messe
l, dove e ste co influss oscuro fa i so comenti;

quando vede i omeni, al pari de e piante, cressar
illumini e minaccii dal stess ciel,
vantarse in zovent, al colmo decressar,
e scancear a verta orgogliosa daa memoria del zervel:

allora el pensier de sta precaria sort
te presenta sior de zovent ai me oci, 
intant che el Tenpo distrutor cospira co a Mort
par canbiar el to d fresco in not da pastroci

e in piena guera col Tenpo, par amor tuo,
come che lu te cava, mi te ripiante de novo sul suo.
sonetto 16
But wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify yourself in your decay
With means more blessed than my barren rhyme?

Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens yet unset
With virtuous wish would bear your living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:

So should the lines of life that life repair,
Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen,
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair,
Can make you live yourself in eyes of men.

To give away yourself keeps yourself still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.
Ma parch no te trova un modo p possente
par far guera a sto sanguinario tiran, el Tenpo,
e difenderte contro el to declin
co mezzi p intivi de e me rime da gnente?

Dess te s al colmo de let sicura
e tanti giardini vrgini, ancora incolti,
co puro desiderio coltivare i to fiori
p somejanti a ti de ogni to pitura:

cuss e righe vive rinovare a to vita,
che el penl del tenpo o a me pena greza
n inte a virt p ntima n inte lesterna beza,
i  boni de imortaear ai oci dei meni.

Concderte l  pur senpre conservarte
e ti te deve vivar ritrato da a to dolze arte.
sonetto 17
Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were fill'd with your most high deserts?
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.

If I could write the beauty of your eyes
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say 'This poet lies:
Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'

So should my papers yellow'd with their age
Be scorn'd like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage
And stretched metre of an antique song:

But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice; in it and in my rhyme.
Chi credar ai me versi nei tenpi che inconbe
se el to deserto dovesse covrzerli?
Epur anca el ciel sa che l  come na tonba
che sconde a to vita e dise gnanca met de ti.

Se posse scriva a beza dee to ocie
e in novi numeri numerar ogni to grazia vera,
let a vegner dire: "Sto poeta conta bae,
el so tc divin mai l  toc umana ziera".

Cuss i me scriti, fati zi dal tenpo,
vegnar derisi come cicoe de veci che sbarboa
e de ti e giuste lodi sar ciame furor poetico,
rime stire de na vecia cantina:

ma se a chel tenpo vivesse un fiol tuo,
do volte te vivare: inte e me rime e in lu.
sonetto 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
Vutu che te paragone a un d dist?
Ti te s p bel e p mite:
venti furiosi sbaeota i bei buti de majo
e el corso de list dura manco de un cit;

dee volte massa caldo splende 'l ocio del ciel
e spess a so ziera de oro a se descura
e ogni roba bea qualche volta se staca dal so bel,
spojda dal caso o dal corso vario de a natura.

Invenze a to eterna ist no sfiorir
e no a perdar el bel che te ;
e a Mort, che te vaghe inte a so onbra no se vantar,
parch al tenpo rispondar a to eternit:

finch ghe sar un respiro o oci par veda,
sti versi var luce e i te dar ancora seda.
sonetto 19
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood;

Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets,
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,
To the wide world and all her fading sweets;
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime:

O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen;
Him in thy course untainted do allow
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.

Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong,
My love shall in my verse ever live young.
Tenpo smagnazon, spnteghe al leon e onge
e costrenzi a tera a divorar a so coda,
cva i caninazzi da e fauci de a tigre feroce
e brusa a fenice immortal intel so sangue,

fa pur e stajon tristi e liete co te va pa 
			i to sentieri
e faghe quel che te vol, Tenpo dal pass vece,
al mondo intiero e ai so efimeri piazeri:
ma dei crimini mi te proibisse el p atroce:

no scolpir e to ore su a front del me amato,
no farghe segni co a to stravecia matita;
durante a to corsa assa chel reste intato
cof model de beza ai meni de a futura vita.

O fa pur del to pezo, vecio Tenpo: a dispet 
				del to scherno,
el me amor nei me versi vivar zovane in eterno.
sonetto 20
A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women's fashion;

An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue, all 'hues' in his controlling,
Much steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.

And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.

But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure,
Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure.
Un viso da puta che Natura de so man  pitur
t ti, sior e siora de a me passion sincera;
e un cuor zentil da fmena, ma no tarl
da e matane tipiche de na fmena busiera;

oci p puri dei sui, e manco perfidi intel vardar,
che indora quel che i osserva
un n a veda, che considerando ogni afar,
roba i oci del n e ciapa el cuor de a serva.

E par essar fmena te jera stat cre,
finch Natura, nel formarte, de ti no a s invagho
e con un tochet in p a me t cav
dandote na zonta intie al scopo mio;

ma poich a t dat forma par sodisfar na gnoca,
sia mio el to amor e suo el piazer de ndar in coca.
sonetto 21
Co mi no cpita come co chea Musa
ispira a poesia da beze artefate,
che come ornamento el ciel stess a usa
e conpara al so splendor tute e be rifate,

metendo insieme in paragoni da fanfara
sol e luna, tera e ogni gma dal mar tolta,
i primi fiori de April e ogni roba p rara
che el firmamento sra inte sta immensa volta.

Ass che mi, onesto in amor, scrive el vero,
e po credme, el me amor l  bel 
cof el fiol de ogni mare, anca se davero
nol bra come i ori taci su intel ciel:

esgere pur chi ama e bee frasi da spenda;
mi no vantar chi no intende venda.
No sucede co mi come co chea Musa
ispira aa poesia da beze artefate,
che come ornamento el ciel stesso usa
e compara al so splendor tutee be fate,

Metendo insieme in paragoni da fanfara
sol e luna, tera e ogni gemma dal mar tolta,
i primi fiori de April e ogni roba p rara
che el firmamento sra inte sta immensa volta.

Onesto in amor, ass che scrive el vero
e po credme, el me amor l  bel 
cof el fiol de ogni mare, anca se davvero
nol brilla come i ori taci su intel ciel:

ass che esgere chi ama e bee frasi da spenda;
mi no vantar chi no intende venda.
sonetto 22
My glass shall not persuade me I am old,
So long as youth and thou are of one date;
But when in thee time's furrows I behold,
Then look I death my days should expiate.

For all that beauty that doth cover thee
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,
Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me:
How can I then be elder than thou art?

O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary
As I, not for myself, but for thee will;
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary
As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.

Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain;
Thou gavest me thine, not to give back again.
El specio no me convinzar che son vecio,
finch ti e a giovineza var a stessa et;
ma quando, in ti, i solchi del tenpo vedar,
spetar che a mort pie de mi finalmente piet.

Parch tuta a beza che te curze ti
altro non la  che a degna veste del me cuor
che vive intel to pto, come el tuo in mi:
come pore, aeora, essar mi de ani p sior?

Perci, amor, abi de ti tanta cura,
come che mi, no par ti ma par mi, vui far,
portando el to cuor, che tegnar co premura
come na tenera balia el so putel lontan dal mal.

No sperar intel to cuor co se rompar el mio:
no te m dat el tuo par averlo da novo indro.
sonetto 23
As an unperfect actor on the stage
Who with his fear is put besides his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart.

So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharged with burden of mine own love's might.

O, let my books be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love and look for recompense
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.

O, learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.
Come un ator bon da gnent in scena
che par paura desmntega a so part,
o come na iena de rabia strapiena
che par massa foga el so cuor fa stracar,

anca mi, insicuro, de dir desmnteghe 
el cerimonial del ritual damor,
e intel colmo del me amor mancar me sinte,
schinz dal peso del so vigor.

Che i sie i me libri lunica eloquenza
e muti messaggeri de a vose del me pto,
a suplicar amor e spetar riconpensa
ben p de a lengua che p  ass el so dto.

O, inpara a leza quel che amor in sinzio scrive:
scoltar coi oci le  del amor e prove p vive.
sonetto 24
Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;
My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,
And perspective it is the painter's art.

For through the painter must you see his skill,
To find where your true image pictured lies;
Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,
That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.

Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:
Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me
Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun
Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee;

Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art;
They draw but what they see, know not the heart.
El me ocio s fat pitor e l  fiss
a to bea somejanza su a ta del me cuor,
el me corpo l  a sosa che stret lo  ser
e se te varda ben, l  capolavoro da pitor.

Del pitor te deve veda a so arte
par scoprir dove a to vera imgine  a so veste,
senpre picada intel studio del me cuor
che   i to oci  come veri ae finestre.

Dess te sa che bel aiuto s dat i nostri oci:
i mii  disegn el to ritrato e i tui par mi
li  finestre al pto mio, par dove el sol
se gode a zignarme parch te ammire:

ma ai oci ghe manca lnema par nobitar a so arte,
i disegna quel che i vede, ignari li  del cuor.
sonetto 25
Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.

Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun's eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.

The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foil'd,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd:

Then happy I, that love and am beloved
Where I may not remove nor be removed.
Chi che  in favor dee ste
se vante de pubblico onor e de ttoi superbi,
mentre mi, che a sort me nega vitorie cuss be,
me gode insperatamente chi de p apreze.

I favori dei potenti vrze e so be foje
sol come calendule al splendor del sol
e z vien sepuo in lori el so orgoglio
quando co a prima nvoea mre a so gloria.

L'eroico guerier, famoso par vaeor,
che dopo me vitorie subisse na sconfitta,
par senpre vien radi dal albo del onor
e in p vien desmentegada ogni so conquista:

beato son mi che ame e son riam
dove posse no canbiar n essar ripudi.
sonetto 26
Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,
To thee I send this written embassage,
To witness duty, not to show my wit:

Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine
May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it,
But that I hope some good conceit of thine
In thy soul's thought, all naked, will bestow it;

Till whatsoever star that guides my moving
Points on me graciously with fair aspect
And puts apparel on my tatter'd loving,
To show me worthy of thy sweet respect:

Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee;
Till then not show my head where thou mayst prove me.
Signor del me amor a cui in schiavit
el to merito ha lig streta a me devozion,
a ti te mande sto messaggio de carta tir-su
testimone doveroso, no par esibir el genio che son:

devozion s granda che ingegno tant da poc
pol far senbrar scarsa, senza pare par esprimerla,
ma mi spere che de lume tuo benevolo almanco un toc
la compagne intei to pensieri, anca senza rime;

finch a sta ignota che me dise dove ndar
posse splendar su de mi co benigno afto
e dar vera veste al me disadorno amar
mostrando che son degno del to tnero rispeto:

forse allora var corajo de vantar el ben che te vui,
ma prima no mostrar a me faccia ai esami tui.
sonetto 27
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body's work's expired:

For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see

Save that my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.

Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee and for myself no quiet find.
Strem daa fadiga, me bute sul let, bel
riposo al corpo strac del viajo;
ma suto taca n altro viajo intel zervel 
a stracar a mente, pena che l corpo ciapa fi.

I me pensieri lontan da dove che stae
i va in pegrinajo drio ae to mosse
e i tien e me zeje pesanti spaeance
a vardar el scuro che sol i orbi conosse:

ma ecco che del me cuor a vista busiera 
disegna el to contorno al me sguardo stu,
e, come un briante pic ne a not nera,
lu fa a not ba e a so facia vecia tira in qua.

Cuss de giorno el corpo, de not a mente
per colpa tua e mia no i se riposa gnente.
sonetto 28
How can I then return in happy plight,
That am debarr'd the benefit of rest?
When day's oppression is not eased by night,
But day by night, and night by day, oppress'd?

And each, though enemies to either's reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me;
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.

I tell the day, to please them thou art bright
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven:
So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night,
When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even.

But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer
And night doth nightly make griefs strength seem stronger
Come posse ritrovar el me pacifico cast
se el riposo del sno m neg?
Se l afano del d no riposa de not
ma a not dal d e el d daa not l  sofeg?

E tuti do, anca se un co chealtro se fa dano,
dacordo i se d na man par torturarme
un co a fadiga, chealtra col afano
de essar lontan, e che p lontan te va starme.

Par cativarme el d ghe dise che ti te s luce
e te o fa pi bel quando e nvoe oscura el so ciel:
e me incative anca a note truce 
co te ghe inargenta a sera se no brilla e ste.

Ma el d ogni d slonga el me dispiazer
e a not ogni not fa del doeor el me mistier.
sonetto 29
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;

For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Quando in disgrazia co a fortuna e ai oci dei meni,
in soitdine pianze el me destin da esili
e ossessione el ciel sordo coi me intii lamenti
e me varde e maedisse a fatait,

vondo essar come chi che  p sior de speranza,
coi stessi modi, e come lu dai amighi ossession, 
e brame larte de questo e labiit de chealtro,
par gnent contento de quel che m p caro:

se inte sti pensieri quasi detestandome
me cpita de pensarte, ecco che el me spiritel,
come a doea al ronpa del d che taca
daa tera scura, eleva canti ae porte del ciel;

el ricordo del to amor me paga tant a segno 
che no canbie quel che  co nissun regno.
sonetto 30
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:

Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.
Quando al ciamar del dolze pensier sienzioso
ingrume el ricordo dei d passai, leco
sospire e lassenza de tante robe desiderae,
e lamentoso lamente de a me vita el spreco:

aeora, sente inondarse i oci, no abitui a pianza,
pa i amighi sepui ne a not eterna de a mort,
e pianze da novo e pene damor sprece,
e soffre el distaco de imagini spare de tante sort:

aeora me ratriste pae sventure ormai passe,
e, de doeor in doeor, tristemente rife
el conto triste de e sofferenze z pate
che ancora paghe come no le vesse mai page.

Ma se in chel momento pense a ti, amigo figon,
ogni perdita vien compensa, e finisse ogni magon.
sonetto 31
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have supposed dead,
And there reigns love and all love's loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought buried.

How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things removed that hidden in thee lie!

Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
Who all their parts of me to thee did give;
That due of many now is thine alone:

Their images I loved I view in thee,
And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.
Prezioso m el to cuor par tuti i cuori
che mncandome considere che i jera
morti, e l amor regna co tuti i so tesori,
l vive i amighi che pense soto tera.

Quante sante funree greme
un caro devoto amor  rob da e me gronde,
qual tributo ai morti dess riconpare,
memorie lontane che dentro de ti te sconde!

Ti te s a tonba dove vive l amor sepuo
circond dai ricordi dei me amori passai,
che i t ced quant i va de mio
che prima jera de tanti, e l  sol tuo ormai:

e imagini che  am, in ti mi vede,
e ti, co lori, de tut el me tut te s erede.
sonetto 32
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.'
Se te vivar oltre a fine de a me ora
quando a Morte schifosa var sepuo el me senbiante
te capitar de vardar na volta ancora
ste pore righe del to defunto amante;

confrntee co a roba moderna p sublime
e se le sar supere dai novi scribatoni,
consrvee par amor mio, no pa e so rime
super da fortuna de altri p cueatoni.

Acrdeme soltanto sto bel pensier:
Se el me Poeta fusse viss inte sta et fiorente,
fruti ben p preziosi dal so amor se vare poest ver 
da tegner testa al equipajo p potente:

ma sicome lu l  mort e i poeti scrive co p ardor
lezar lori pal stile, lu pal so amor.
sonetto 33
Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;

Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his celestial face,
And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:

Even so my sun one early morn did shine
With all triumphant splendor on my brow;
But out, alack! he was but one hour mine;
The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.

Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;
Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth.
Quante volte ho vist na alba gloriosa
blandir co ocio maestoso i monti soravia,
basar i verdi pra co na ziera luminosa,
dorar i pidi ruscelli co ceste alchimia

e subito permeta a nvoe scure de saltonar
co furia minacciosa sul so muso trascendente
e nasconda el so viso al mondo ribandon,
scanpando co vergogna furtiva a ponente.

Proprio cuss el me sol na matina l ha bril
co esultante splendor su a me fronte;
ma, poro mi, no l  stat mio che pa un fi,
na serie de nvoe me l fat tornar ae sconte.

Ma no par questo el me amor lo disdegna;
i soi de a Tera se oscura se el sol del ciel se sdegna.
sonetto 34
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?

'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak
That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace:

Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;
Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss:
The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief
To him that bears the strong offence's cross.

Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds.
   
Parch te mha promess na bea giornada
che son vegn da ti senza mantel
par po assar che nvoe par strada
sconde in brut fumo tut el to bel?

E no me basta che te torne fora
a sugarme dal viso el temporal,
nissun pol vor pomata par sora
che giusta i taji e no guarisse el mal:

A to vergogna no mitiga a pena,
se anche te te pente a bota resta:
chel doeor de chi offende cura apena
el cuor de chi, offeso, sbassa a testa.

L perle e agreme che tha perso,
perle che riscata el to far perverso.
   
sonetto 35
No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud;
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.

All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authorizing thy trespass with compare,
Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,
Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are;

For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense--
Thy adverse party is thy advocate--
And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence:
Such civil war is in my love and hate

That I an accessary needs must be
To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me.
No sta p angustiarte par quel che t sul col:
e rose  spine, fango  e fonti che fa blut-blut;
nvoe e eclissi fa scuri luna e sol
e un verme schifoso vive intel p bel but.

Tuti fa cazze, e anca mi ghe ne pianze,
e giustfiche e to ofese co analogie
umilindome da sol par mitigar e to mancanze,
scusando e to colpe p de quel che e sie:

e dato che porte atenuanti ai peci dei to sensi,
a to controparte deventa el to avocato difensor;
e a me intenta regoear processo:
e tal la  a lota fra el me odio e el me amor

che fatalmente devente propriet
de chel caro ladro che inclemente me ciava.
sonetto 36
Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:
So shall those blots that do with me remain
Without thy help by me be borne alone.

In our two loves there is but one respect,
Though in our lives a separable spite,
Which though it alter not love's sole effect,
Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight.

I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame,
Nor thou with public kindness honour me,
Unless thou take that honour from thy name:

But do not so; I love thee in such sort
As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
Mi te dise che noialtri do dovn restar do
anca se i nostri amori indivisbii li  uno sol:
cuss che e colpe che le  mie e co mi resta zo
senza el to aiuto, le soportar da sol.

Nei nostri do amori  un comun intento
anca se ne e nostre vite na ingiusta separazion,
che se pur no canbia el nostro sentimento
tutavia rba bee ore al amor che d sodisfazion.

Mi dessar to amigo no podar p mostrar 
pal timor che te te vergogne pa e me colpe indegne 
n ti co manifesta simpatia te me podar onorar
se no te vor cavar onor da e to insegne:

ma no sta farlo: mi te vui cuss benon
che, essendo ti mi, mia la  a to reputazion.
sonetto 37
As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.

For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of these all, or all, or more,
Entitled in thy parts do crowned sit,
I make my love engrafted to this store:

So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised,
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give
That I in thy abundance am sufficed
And by a part of all thy glory live.

Look, what is best, that best I wish in thee:
This wish I have; then ten times happy me!
Come un pare decrepito se diverte
a veda el so vispo tosatel far matane de zovent,
cuss mi, fat zot dai colpi p amari de a sort,
trove ogni me conforto intel to merito e virt;

se beza, nascita, dovizia, inteigenza
o alcune de queste, o tute, o altre ancora
sta regalmente corone daa to magnificenza,
a ste be doti mi ncore el me amor:

cuss no me sinte storpio n port n disprez
finch e d sostanza a sta me vaga storia
che inte a to richeza mi me sinte appag 
e vive a lonbra de tuta a to gloria.

Varda, quel ch de mejo, mi te o augure a ti:
questo l  quel che sinte; e diese volte contento mi!
sonetto 38
How can my Muse want subject to invent,
While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?

O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;
For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thyself dost give invention light?

Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.

If my slight Muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.
Come pol mancar a me Musa de ispirazion 
fin che ti te respira, e ai me versi te infonde
el to dolze argomento, forse de massa reputazion
parch un scritt da gnent lo celebre co luree fronde?

Ringrazia pur ti stesso se calcossa de mi
degno de lettura colpir a to atenzion;
chi pol essar tant ottuso da non scriva de ti
se a to stessa presenza d luce a linvenzion?

Sii ti a decima Musa, diese volte p degna
dee antiche nove che i poeti invoca;
e chi splica el to aiuto, chel posse dar vita
a rime immorti che p no se a moca.

Se a me pora Musa piase a sta epoca de storia,
mia sia a fadiga, ma tua a gloria.
sonetto 39
O, how thy worth with manners may I sing,
When thou art all the better part of me?
What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?
And what is 't but mine own when I praise thee?

Even for this let us divided live,
And our dear love lose name of single one,
That by this separation I may give
That due to thee which thou deservest alone.

O absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove,
Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave
To entertain the time with thoughts of love,
Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive,

And that thou teachest how to make one twain,
By praising him here who doth hence remain!
Come posse i to meriti degnamente cantar
se ti te s tuta a mejo part de mi?
Lodarme mi cossa me pol portar?
E cossaltro o se no 'l elogio mio, co te lode ti?

Anca par questo divisi vn da star 
e assar che el nostro amor nol sie p uno sol,
cuss che co sta separazion te posse dar
quel che te speta e che te merita ti sol.

O lontananza, che tormento te sare ancora,
se l amaro far gnent no me assesse a libert bea
de occupar el tenpo in pensieri damor,
che el tenpo e i pensieri dolzemente inzingana,

e se no te minsegnesse come divida uno in do
lodando qua chi che m cuss lontan.
sonetto 40
Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;
All mine was thine before thou hadst this more.

Then if for my love thou my love receivest,
I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest;
But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest
By wilful taste of what thyself refusest.

I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,
Although thou steal thee all my poverty;
And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief
To bear love's wrong than hate's known injury.

Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,
Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes.
Ciapa tute e me fineze, amor, s, cipee pa intiero
cossaltro te var de p de quel che te va prima?
Nissun amor, amor mio, che te posse dir sincero;
tut el mio jera tuo prima che te o vesse in zima.

Se quindi, par amor mio, el me amor te fa tuo
no posse rinproverarte par come che te o usa;
ma va remengo ti, se te te ciol da sol pal cueo
col gusto pien de voja par quel che ti te ricusa.

Mi te perdone el furto, ladro gentil
anca se te me spoja de a poca roba mia;
e pur l amor sa che l  doeor p sutil
sofrir l ingano d'amor che del odio a fera.

Grazia lasciva, co cui te neta i to intrighi,
speme doss, ma no sten deventar nemighi.
sonetto 41
Those petty wrongs that liberty commits,
When I am sometime absent from thy heart,
Thy beauty and thy years full well befits,
For still temptation follows where thou art.

Gentle thou art and therefore to be won,
Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed;
And when a woman woos, what woman's son
Will sourly leave her till she have prevailed?

Ay me! but yet thou mightest my seat forbear,
And chide try beauty and thy straying youth,
Who lead thee in their riot even there
Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth,

Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee,
Thine, by thy beauty being false to me.
I bei peci che da a libert concessi te vien,
quando talvolta intel cuor no te stae,
ai to ani e a to beza i se adata ben
parch a tentazion te segue dovunque che te vae.

Ti te s nbie de cuor, quindi da conquistar,
bel ti s, e quindi da sedur.
E quando na fmena vol, qual fiol de fmena sa
butarla in parte prima de verla va?

Poro mi! Te podare conprenda el me disapunto
e contegner a to beza e a to viziosa et,
che ne a so incontinenza te strassina al punto
dessar costret a ronpar na duplice lealt:

de a, che co a to beza te tenta verso de ti,
a tua, parch forte de quea, te s falso co mi.
sonetto 42
That thou hast her, it is not all my grief,
And yet it may be said I loved her dearly;
That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief,
A loss in love that touches me more nearly.

Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye:
Thou dost love her, because thou knowst I love her;
And for my sake even so doth she abuse me,
Suffering my friend for my sake to approve her.

If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain,
And losing her, my friend hath found that loss;
Both find each other, and I lose both twain,
And both for my sake lay on me this cross:

But here's the joy; my friend and I are one;
Sweet flattery! then she loves but me alone.
Che ti te epie a, no l  tut el me tormento
se pur se sa che l ama teneramente;
ma che a te epie ti l  fonte de sgomento,
na sconfita in amor che me toca internamente.

Amanti colpvoi, cuss vui trovarve na scusa:
ti te ama a parch te sa che mi la ame;
e par amor mio anca a de mi la abusa
assando che me amigo par amor mio la brame.

Se mi te perde ti, sta me prdita l par a un tie
e se perde a, l  me amigo a ritrovar a tosa:
entrambi ve trov e mi ve perde tuti do
e valtri, par amor mio, me destin sta crose.

Ma eco el bel: me amigo e mi sen uno sol:
che bel ingano! a dunque me ama mi mi-sol.
sonetto 43
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright are bright in dark directed.

Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow's form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!

How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!

All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
Co li sere, i me oci vede de p:
durante el d i vede robete noiose
ma co dorme, in sogno i te varda ti
e, fari intel scuro, li  luci luminose.

E ti, che a to onbra rende e onbre splendenti,
che divina forma pore a to onbra mostrar
al ciaro del d co a to luce ancora p lucente,
se z a oci seri a to onbra la  bona de brir!

Oh, mi dise, come i me oci se sentire beati
amirndote intel splendor del d
se z inte a not nera a to bea onbra inzerta
intel sno profondo la  viva in oci senza vista!

Ogni d l  not se no te vede
e ogni not l d se in sogno mi te vede.
sonetto 44
If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
Injurious distance should not stop my way;
For then despite of space I would be brought,
From limits far remote where thou dost stay.

No matter then although my foot did stand
Upon the farthest earth removed from thee;
For nimble thought can jump both sea and land
As soon as think the place where he would be.

But ah! thought kills me that I am not thought,
To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,
But that so much of earth and water wrought
I must attend time's leisure with my moan,

Receiving nought by elements so slow
But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.
Se a materia pesante del me corpo fusse pensier,
a distanza avversa no fermare a me strada;
parch, a dispet del spazio, me fare portar 
dai punti p lontani al posto dove che te sta.

Che inporta eora se el me pe dimora
so a tera p lontana che da ti sie stata messa;
el pensier svelto pol varcar mar e tera
inte quel chel pensa dove che el vore essar.

Ma, poro mi, me copa el pensier che pensier no son
par sorvoear e distanze longhe co te s via,
ma fat de tera e acqua in quanto n
deve spetar i comodi del tenpo co a me maincona;

no ricavando da elementi cuss tardi
che greme pesanti, smboi del doeor de entrambi.
sonetto 45
The other two, slight air and purging fire,
Are both with thee, wherever I abide;
The first my thought, the other my desire,
These present-absent with swift motion slide.

For when these quicker elements are gone
In tender embassy of love to thee,
My life, being made of four, with two alone
Sinks down to death, oppress'd with melancholy;

Until life's composition be recured
By those swift messengers return'd from thee,
Who even but now come back again, assured
Of thy fair health, recounting it to me:

This told, I joy; but then no longer glad,
I send them back again and straight grow sad.
Chealtri do, aria lisiera e fogo purificator,
li  co ti, dovunque mi me trove:
me pensier a prima, me desiderio chealtro,
presenti-assenti, rapidi i se move.

Quando sti elementi p svelti li  ndati zo
in tenera anbasciata damor verso de ti,
a me vita, de quatro conposta, co sol che do
a sprofonda inte a mort, sofegada da mainconia, 

finch a conposizion de a vita no vien rianima
da quei rapidi messaggeri ritornai da ti,
e che proprio adess l  qua, co a novit 
del to bon stato, a contrmeo a mi:

co i lo dise, son contento; ma feno dessar liegro
de novo li rimande e suto torne dumor negro.
sonetto 46
Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war
How to divide the conquest of thy sight;
Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar,
My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.

My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie
-- A closet never pierced with crystal eyes--
But the defendant doth that plea deny
And says in him thy fair appearance lies.

To 'cide this title is impanneled
A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart,
And by their verdict is determined
The clear eye's moiety and the dear heart's part:

As thus; mine eye's due is thy outward part,
And my heart's right thy inward love of heart.
I me oci e el me cuor li  in mortal guera 
per ziogarse a conquista de e to ocie:
i oci al cuor vore sconda a to somejanza vera,
el cuor contesta ai oci a libert de chel diritto.

El cuor porta a difesa che ti te dimora in lu
 un tenpio mai profan da oci penetranti  
Ma a controparte nega sto discorso fat-su,
disendo che l  da lori el to bel sembiante.

Par atribuir sto diritto vien inbasto in giuria
un esame dei pensieri, tuti fedi al cuor,
e pal verdet de lori vien aggiudica
a parte dei puri oci e quea del caro cuor:

cuss: ai me oci speta el to esterno aspeto,
e diritto del me cuor l  el to p profondo afeto.
sonetto 47
Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other:
When that mine eye is famish'd for a look,
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,

With my love's picture then my eye doth feast
And to the painted banquet bids my heart;
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part:

So, either by thy picture or my love,
Thyself away art resent still with me;
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them and they with thee;

Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.
Tra i me oci e el me cuor na alleanza  st ligada
e ognun riversa su chealtro el so ben:
se i me oci li  avidi de na ociada,
o se el cuor inamor, de sospiri el se sofegha,

co a somejanza del me amor i me oci eora fa festa
e al banchet de a fantasia li invita el me cuor;
naltra volta li  i oci dal cuor ospiti in prstio
che co lori spartisse el so pensier damor.

Cuss, o par a to immagine o pa l me amor,
anche se lontan, ti te s senpre co mi;
parch p lontan dei me pensieri no te pol ndar
e senpre mi son co lori e lori co ti;

o se lori dorme, in mi a to vision
sveja el me cuor pal piazer suo e dei me oci.
sonetto 48
How careful was I, when I took my way,
Each trifle under truest bars to thrust,
That to my use it might unused stay
From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!

But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
Most worthy of comfort, now my greatest grief,
Thou, best of dearest and mine only care,
Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.

Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest,
Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art,
Within the gentle closure of my breast,
From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part;

And even thence thou wilt be stol'n, I fear,
For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.
Oh s, son stat prudente, prima de ndar,
a metar soto ciave ogni minima idiozia
parch pal me uso la posse restar 
salva da man profane, al sicuro custoda!

Ma ti, al cui confronto i me ori li  gnent,
ti, prezioso conforto, e dess p gran angoscia mia,
ti, immensa letizia e unica me ansia drento,
te s rest preda de ogni ignbie ladroneria.

Mi no t ser in nissuna cassaforte,
salvo che dove che no ti s, anca se te sinte star,
drento el recinto afetuoso del me cuor,
da dove a to piazer te pol vegner e ndar;

e perfin da l, che te me vegne rob  teror,
parch onest se fa ladra pa un cuss caro vaeor.
sonetto 49
Against that time, if ever that time come,
When I shall see thee frown on my defects,
When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum,
Call'd to that audit by advised respects;

Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass
And scarcely greet me with that sun thine eye,
When love, converted from the thing it was,
Shall reasons find of settled gravity,--

Against that time do I ensconce me here
Within the knowledge of mine own desert,
And this my hand against myself uprear,
To guard the lawful reasons on thy part:

To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws,
Since why to love I can allege no cause.
Par chel d, se mai vegnar chel d,
che te vedar ranzignar par ogni me difeto,
quando el to amor saldar el so conto estremo
spinto a chel giudizio da savie riflession:

par chel d in cui te me passar vizin da estraneo
senza voltar verso de mi el sol dei to oci,
e l amor, diverso da quel che el jera un tempo,
trovar rason de na zerta gravit:

par chel d, dovar scondarme
drento a coscienza del me deserto,
e sta me man alzar a farme schermo
par parar quel che sar e to rason.

Par assarme miserbie ti t a forza de e leggi,
inveze mi d'essar am no posse vantar diritti.
sonetto 50
How heavy do I journey on the way,
When what I seek, my weary travel's end,
Doth teach that ease and that repose to say
'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!'

The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,
As if by some instinct the wretch did know
His rider loved not speed, being made from thee:

The bloody spur cannot provoke him on
That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide;
Which heavily he answers with a groan,
More sharp to me than spurring to his side;

For that same groan doth put this in my mind;
My grief lies onward and my joy behind.
Continuar a me strada come che m penoso 
quando el liogo dove vae, fine del me triste viajo,
insegner a chea quiete e a chel riposo
quante le  e leghe che separa da to amigo.

A bestia che me porta, stanca del me doeor,
camina lentamente, pal peso che me grava mi,
come se a puareta capisse par qualche istinto 
che el so cavalier no ama a pressa che lontana da ti:

No sprona el so pass el sanguinario speron 
che talvolta lira ghe fonda dove el sol bate manco;
a quel, sfina, ea con un zigo risponde
che me spuncia p del fero intel so fianco;

parch chel stesso zigo me ricorda
che davanti  el doeor e a me gioia ae spe.
sonetto 51
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed:
From where thou art why should I haste me thence?
Till I return, of posting is no need.

O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,
When swift extremity can seem but slow?
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;
In winged speed no motion shall I know:

Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;
Therefore desire of perfect'st love being made,
Shall neigh--no dull flesh--in his fiery race;
But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade;

Since from thee going he went wilful-slow,
Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.
Chel me amor posse scusar a colpa lenta
de a me cavalcatura pigra co me alontane:
parch dovare sbrigarme dal liogo dove che ti s?
Fin al me ritorno, no serve cavalcar vece.

Che scusa trovar inveze a me pora bestia
quando a so andatura vece me parar indonza?
Fracar i speroni anca se cavalchesse el vento,
me parar essar fermo anca se vesse e e:

nissun caval pol tegner el pass del me ardor.
Perci sto deso fat de amor purissimo,
e privo de carne, nitrir al gaeopo;
ma l amor, par amor, sar indulgente col me ronzin:

se vegnendo via da ti l  ndat aposta pinpian,
tornando da ti corar, e lo far ndar.
sonetto 52
So am I as the rich, whose blessed key
Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure,
The which he will not every hour survey,
For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.

Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare,
Since, seldom coming, in the long year set,
Like stones of worth they thinly placed are,
Or captain jewels in the carcanet.

So is the time that keeps you as my chest,
Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide,
To make some special instant special blest,
By new unfolding his imprison'd pride.

Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope,
Being had, to triumph, being lack'd, to hope.
Mi son sior come el sior che na ciave benedeta
pol menar al so dolze tesoro ben ser,
che per lu no va a rimirar ogni meza oreta
par no fiacar lestasi de un piazer p raro.

Par questo e feste le  cuss soenni e rare
parch, ricorendo rade intel corso del ano,
le  distanzie come pire de vaeor
o gioii de alto pregio incastoni intun coer.

Cuss l  el tenpo che te conserva come el me forzier
o come un armeron che sconde vesti de oro
par rendar p prezioso chel timo de piazer
co el f riveda el so scont splendor.

Sii benedeto ti, chel to vaeor me offre a man
de gioir co ti vizin, de sperar co ti lontan.
sonetto 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.
Qual a a to natura, situ fat de cossa
che tante onbre foreste te sta in parte?
Ognun  sol che a so unica onbra
e ti, unico, a tante onbre te pol prestarte.

Descrivi Adone e a so bea figurina:
no l  che a misera imitazion de ti;
zonta al viso de Elena ogni beza soprafina
e pitur co vesti greche te vien ancora fora ti;

parla de a vrta e dei fruti del ano,
a prima no la  che lombra de a to beza,
chealtri i par el dono tuo disinteress;
e te riveden ti in ogni forma che  contenteza.

De ogni beza esterna ti t calcossa de suo,
ma par animo costante nissun someja al tuo.
sonetto 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.
Quant p bea ne par a beza,
par chel bel ornamento che virt ghe regea!
Bea senbra a rosa, ma p bea la pensn
pal bon profumo che vive drento de a.

Anca i fiori selvreghi i  tinte intense
come i coeori profumai de e rose,
li  e stesse spine, e i zioga col stess brio
de quando el ventesel dist ghe verze i bcoi:

ma sicome el so pregio l  sol l'aparenza,
i vive ribandonai, i sfiorisse no curai
i mre da soi. Ma no cuss e fragranti rose:
a so dolze mort deventa el p bon profumo:

e cuss par ti, fior stupendo e voss,
co te apassir, i me versi distiar a to virt.
sonetto 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 lover's eyes.
N marmo, n monumenti de oro
de prncipi sopravivar a sti potenti versi;
ti te briar p luminoso inte sto me lavoro 
che inte a piera polverosa ruina dal tenpo pers.

Quando na guera devastante e statue rabaltar
o na rivolta spacar tute e opere d'arte
n a spada de Marte e gnanca el fogo suo scancear
el ricordo eterno de a voja de ricordarte.

Contro a mort e ogni forza oste del oblio
te caminar: a to gloria trovar un postesin
proprio inte i oci de ogni et che vegnar da dro
strassinando sto mondo al so destin.

Cuss, sin al giudizio che te far resuscitar,
vivo inte i oci del amante te podar restar.
sonetto 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.
Amor, rinima a to forza; no vui sentir comentar
che el to sentir l  p ottuso del languor
e, anco sazi dal so magnar,
doman el torna drento i confini del primitivo ardor.

Sii cuss, amor: anca se anco t appag
i to avidi oci fin a farli cascar sazi intel sno,
rivrzei ancora doman, e no sofegar
el morbin damor intun torpor eterno senza tono.

Che el sie sto momento ingrato smie a chel mar
che divide e sponde dove do zvani promessi 
va ogni d, cuss che co i vede tornar
l amor, p beato risulta l incontro dei sensi.

O chel sie come l'inverno, che pien de avversit,
rende tre volte p prezioso e anbo l arivo de list.
sonetto 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.
Essendo mi s-ciavo tuo, che altro pore far
se no servir ore e momenti de ogni to vor?
No  tenpo prezioso da spenda o consumar,
n servigi da renda finch ti no ti domanda.

N  corajo de lamentarme dei momenti senza- 
fine intant che varde lora in attesa de ti, signor mio,
n giudiche esasperante lamarezza de lassenza
quando al to servitor te g dit addio.

N ose domandar al me pensier geoso
dove che te posse essar, o supor i to afari co a zente,
ma, come un s-ciavo triste, spte e no pense a gnent
sol quant che te fa contenti quei che te sta darente.

L amor l  cuss semo che in ogni to voeont,
qualsiasi roba te fae, nol vede nissuna malvagit.
sonetto 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.
Che el Dio che m fat s-ciavo tuo de bonora
el me viete de controear a mente i to atimi de piazer
o de inplorar ai to pe el resoconto de ogni ora,
essendo mi to vassal, costret a star al to vor.

Che posse sofrir, senpre ae to pretese,
a soitdine inposta da a to libert,
e lattesa, istrua a sofrir, e soportar ofese
senza acusarte de ingiusta crudelt.

Ovunque te sie, el to privilegio l  cuss 
che ti el to tenpo te pol conceda
a chi che te vol; e speta soltanto a ti
perdonarte del mal che te fa veda.

Mi deve spetar, anca se spetar l  un inferno,
n biasimar el to piazr, chel sie bon o scherno. 
sonetto 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 whether better they,
Or whether revolution be the same.

O, sure I am, the wits of former days
To subjects worse have given admiring praise.
Se gnent  veramente novo, ma quel che inporta
l  z stat prima, come s'ingana a nostra mente
che, intel sforzo de crear, par sbaglio a se porta
naltra volta el peso di un fiol z esistente!

Podesse un segno, co na ociada a ritroso 
anca de zinquezento giri del sol,
mostrarme a to somejanza in qualche antico coso
quando al pensier jera dat dessar manco mol.

Cuss pore scoprir quel che el vecio mondo disa
de sta prodigiosa creazion de a to forma,
se ven progredo, se lori mejo i la sfangha,
o se el ciclo de a vita senpre conpagno ritorna.

No, son sicuro, i sapienti dei antichi regni
li  elargo alte lodi a sojti manco degni. 
sonetto 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.
Come e onde se core drio verso a riva de pire,
cuss i nostri minuti va de corsa verso a so fine,
ognun fracando via quel che lo precede,
e tuti co afano lotta in vanti tra e rovine.

Na vita nova, na volta che a se afaccia a storia,
nda verso a maturit, e vien coronada in trono;
maegrazie brute e traditore contrasta chea gloria,
e el tenpo che ghe a data po distrude el so dono.

El Tenpo porta via el fior de a zovent
e scava fonde rughe in fronte a beza,
el se nutre dee p rare beze de a natura,
e gnent vien risparmi dal so falzin che tut indreza:

ma i me versi resistar a futura et
par dir el to vaeor, contro a so crudelt.
sonetto 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.
Situ ti a vor che a to imagine tegne verte 
e me palpebre pesanti inte a not che me sfinisse? 
Situ ti a desiderar che mi i me sni li perde 
dro a onbre de ti che inbroja e me vibrisse?

o forse el to spirito che te manda lontan da ti 
cuss lontan da casa a spiar el me conportamento, 
par scoprir vergogne e ore frvoe in mi, 
de a to geosia bersaglio e nutrimento? 

No, el to amor, pur forte, no l  cuss grandioso: 
l  el me amor che fa che i me oci tegne banco, 
el me devoto amor che frustra el me riposo 
par esser senpre de sentina al to fianco. 

Par ti reste svejo, e ti svejo altrove te te a passa, 
lontan da mi un toc, ad altri vizin anca massa.
sonetto 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.
Pec de vanit dmina su quel che vede, 
tuta a me nema e ogni me ardor; 
e par sto pec no  rimedio, 
tant l  radic intel me cuor. 

Pense che nissun viso l  gentil quant el mio 
n forma p perfeta, o perfezion che altrotant conte; 
e al merito mio de mi atribuisse el vaeor mio, 
e che tuti chealtri in ogni canp mi soramonte.

Ma quando el specio me sva come che son mi, 
bat da na bruta veciia e desf, 
leze a rovess sto amor mio verso de mi: 
amar quel che vede sare na infamit. 

Te s ti, el me vero mi, che al posto mio mi lode,
rinverdendo a me et co a beza che i to ani gode.
sonetto 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.
Quando el me amor sar come che dess son mi, 
ofeso e logor daa man del Tenpo ingiuriosa; 
quando e ore var svod e so vene, e a so fronte 
sar tuta rughe e grinze; quando a so alba rosa 

sar rivada a lestrema not de a veciaia, 
e tute e beze che anco l  lu paron 
le sar drio sparir o le sar z spare daa vista, 
portandose via el tesoro de a so prima stajon: 

par chel terbie momento deve mterme in difesa 
contro a lama crude de let che tut schita, 
che no a taje mai via daa memoria 
a beza del me caro amor, a dispet de a so vita: 

el so splendor trasparir da ste strisse nere, 
e lore vivar, e lu in lore, par senpre 
			co a so zvane ziera.
sonetto 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.
Quando da latroce man del Tenpo  vist desfigur 
l orgoglio de poche ormai sepue; 
quando talvolta vede alte tori bute zo sul pr
e bronzi eterni rovini da furiose maeate; 

quando  vist l ingordo oceano invada 
el reame dee spiaje e a so storia 
e a tera vinza a potenza de lacqua destirada, 
alternando vitoria a sconfita e sconfita a vitoria; 

quando  vist el terbie ndar torno de a natura
o a stessa sovranit intaca tant da croear, 
 stat l che Rovina m insegn a meditar 
che el Tenpo vegnar a portar via el me amor. 

Sto pensier l  come a mort, no l  altra scelta 
se no de pianza de ver chi che s timor de perda.
sonetto 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.
Se n bronzo, n pira, n tera n mar senza scuria 
ma sol a triste mortait mostra el so potente ardor,
come podar oporse a beza a tanta furia 
se el so vigor nol  p forte de quel de un fior?
 
O come podar el fresco respiro de list tegner bota
a rovinosa streta dei d che marta, 
quando rche inespugnabii no le  tant ben in dota 
n porte de acciaio salde chel Tenpo no ruina? 

O tragico pensier! Dove, poro mi, tegner scont 
al forzier del Tenpo el so p bel gioiel? 
Che man possente tegnar indro el so pass ont? 
O chi savar impedirghe el sterminio del bel?
 
Nissun, a meno che sto mircoeo no epie a tenpra 
che in nero inchiostro l amor mio splende par senpre.
sonetto 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.
Strac de tute ste robe, pase a mort invoche, 
come veda el Merito che vive in strada 
e el Gnent senza forma orn de be cioche 
e a p pura Fede ingiustamente rinegada 

e un splendido Onor indegnamente confero 
e linocente Virt volgarmente prostitua 
e a retta Perfezion difama co un far incancaro
e a Forza da Poteri trabaeanti iniba

e lArte costreta al sinzio streta da lAutorit 
e a Follia, fata dotor, controear l Ingegno 
e a pura Verit scanbia par Senplicit 
e el Ben s-ciavo servir el comandante Maligno:
 
strac de tute ste robe, vore za ssarme rot el col,
senonch, morendo, assare el me amor da sol.
sonetto 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.
Ma parch in mezo a coruzion el dovare viva 
e co a so presenza ingentir lenpiet, 
cuss che al pec, da lu un vantajo ghe rive
e el se fae bel stndoghe in societ? 

Parch falsa pitura dovare imitar e so gote, 
robando a na faccia trist a so viva ziera? 
Parch a pora beza dovare zercar altre note 
in rose false, se a so rosa la  vera? 

Parch el dovare viva, se Natura la  in faimento,
in povert de sangue per dar vita a ogni vena? 
Eh s, dess l  sol che lu el so sostentamento
e, fiera de tanti, a vive del quel che lu ghe mena. 

Oh! Ea lo conserva par mostrar che tesoro a va 
in tenpi ben lontani da sta ultima peoca.
sonetto 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.
Quindi el so viso l  a mapa dei d che  stati, 
quando beza viva e mora come fa i fiori dess, 
prima che i segni bastardi de a beza fusse nati 
o che li osesse dimorar so el muso de un fess; 

prima che e drezze doro de chi ch ndat, 
destine ai sepolcri, vegnesse taje via 
par viva na seconda vita su a testa de n altro tosat, 
e e morte cave de a belt portesse ad altri alegria: 

in lu se vede i venerandi tenpi che fu 
senza ornamenti intii, genuini par prova, 
quando no se fa ist col verde de n altro lu 
o se despoja el pass par vestir beza nova; 

e cuss natura conserva lu come model 
per mostrar a lArte falsa qual che fusse el bel.
sonetto 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.
Quee parti de ti che l ocio del mondo vede 
no le vol altro che el pensier dei cuori le fae perfete; 
ogni lengua, vose del cuor, te rende a to mercede 
disendo a nuda verit, come anca i nemighi amete.

Cuss a to esteriorit par fora vien loda; 
ma quee stesse lengue che te accorda a to verit
sconde sti elogi co qualche altra inpitura 
vardando oltre quel che l ocio g mostr. 

Lore indaga intel fondo segreto del to cuor, 
e, indecise, e lo misura dai to ati; 
e, co cativi pensieri, anca se l ocio l  stat un sior,
zonta al to bel fior el tanfo dee erbate; 

se quindi el to profumo discorda dal to senbiante 
a colpa la  che te cresse tra erbe come tante.
sonetto 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.
Che te vegne critic no cpita par to difet, 
l  senpre st bersaglio dee lenguate el bel, 
l ornamento de a beza l  sospet,
come un corvo che svoea intel azuro del ciel. 

Se te s bon, a maldicenza dar p fama 
al to immenso merito (el tenpo a tira el ghe fa),
parch linvidia la  verme che i teneri buti ama 
e ti te presenta un fresco fior imacoe. 

Te s pass tra e insidie de a zovent 
e, senza essar travolto n vittorioso, te  sfanga; 
ma sta to virt no pol esser cuss virt 
da sofegar linvidia p che mai sfrena. 

Se nissun sospet oscuresse el to splendor, 
te sare a regnar da sol su ogni cuor.
sonetto 71
No longer mourn for me when I am dead 
Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell 
Give warning to the world that I am fled 
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell: 

Nay, if you read this line, remember not 
The hand that writ it; for I love you so 
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot 
If thinking on me then should make you woe. 

O, if, I say, you look upon this verse 
When I perhaps compounded am with clay, 
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse. 
But let your love even with my life decay, 

Lest the wise world should look into your moan 
And mock you with me after I am gone.
No sta pianza tant co sar mort
quando el din-dn de a campana lamentosa 
far saver al mondo che me a son ciolta 
da sta tera schifosa par dimorar coi vermi p schifosi: 

se te lezar ste righe, no sta tegner a mente 
a man che le  scrite; mi te vui cuss ben 
che dai to bei pensieri vore sentirme assente
se el ricordo de mi dovesse cavarte el seren. 

O se i to oci cascar su sta poesia 
co sar missi in tera co e frasche, 
el me poro nome no sta portarte via, 
ma assa che el to amor co a me vita el casche: 

par paura che el mondo savio scrute intel to piant 
e se burle de noialtri dopo che sar ndat.
sonetto 72
O, lest the world should task you to recite 
What merit lived in me, that you should love 
After my death, dear love, forget me quite, 
For you in me can nothing worthy prove; 

Unless you would devise some virtuous lie, 
To do more for me than mine own desert, 
And hang more praise upon deceased I 
Than niggard truth would willingly impart: 

O, lest your true love may seem false in this, 
That you for love speak well of me untrue, 
My name be buried where my body is, 
And live no more to shame nor me nor you. 

For I am shamed by that which I bring forth, 
And so should you, to love things nothing worth.
Par paura che el mondo te blighe a no star mut
sui meriti par cui te dovare amarme 
dopo a me mort, amor, desmntegheme del tut, 
dato che gnent de vaeor te pore trovarme, 

se no disendo qualche pietosa busa
che par mi a fae p del me deserto, 
e zonte p lodi a me salma sepua
de quee che a parca verit me d come merto. 

Par paura che el to vero amor senbre busier, 
che par amor te tochesse parlar ben de mi, 
sepussi el me nome col me corpo, par piazer
che p nol vive a getar infamia su de mi o su de ti. 

Umiliar me sinte da tut quel che disegne, 
e o stesso sare par ti amar robe indegne.
sonetto 73
That time of year thou mayst in me behold 
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang 
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, 
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. 

In me thou seest the twilight of such day 
As after sunset fadeth in the west, 
Which by and by black night doth take away, 
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. 

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire 
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, 
As the death-bed whereon it must expire 
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by. 

This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, 
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
Chel periodo del ano in mi te pol veda
quando nissuna o poche foje ze resta pice 
sui rami che trema contro el fredo, 
nudi archi in rovina dove i ultimi oseti  cant. 

In mi ti te vede el crepscoeo de un d 
che dopo el tramonto a ponente pian pian tase
e suto da a not nera el vien inghioto, 
onbra de quea mort che tut confina in pase.

In mi ti te vede el svigorir de un brusr 
che more in mezo a znare de a so zovent 
come sul let de mort dove el dovar spirar, 
consum da quel che lo  tegn su. 

Questo te vede, che fa el to amor p forte 
e amar de p chi che tra poc te tocar assar a morte.
sonetto 74
But be contented: when that fell arrest 
Without all bail shall carry me away, 
My life hath in this line some interest, 
Which for memorial still with thee shall stay. 

When thou reviewest this, thou dost review 
The very part was consecrate to thee: 
The earth can have but earth, which is his due; 
My spirit is thine, the better part of me: 

So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life, 
The prey of worms, my body being dead, 
The coward conquest of a wretch's knife, 
Too base of thee to be remembered. 

The worth of that is that which it contains, 
And that is this, and this with thee remains.
Ma sta contento: quando el fatal arresto 
che no  cauzion me condur lontan, 
a me vita var inte sti versi un qualche intaresse
che, ricordndome, senpre te restar in man. 

Ogni volta che ti lezar, te rivedar 
quea part che a t stada consacrada a ti: 
a tera no var che a tera, come che  so diritto, 
e tuo sar el me spirito, a mejo part de mi:
 
te var quindi pers sol che e scorie de a vita, 
a preda dei vermi, quando el me corpo sar mort, 
a conquista vigliaca de a lama de un agguato, 
massa vil par ti parch te te a tegne a cuor. 

El so vaeor l  in quel chel contien, 
e l  qua, e co ti el resta, chel ben.
sonetto 75
So are you to my thoughts as food to life, 
Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground; 
And for the peace of you I hold such strife 
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found; 

Now proud as an enjoyer and anon 
Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure, 
Now counting best to be with you alone, 
Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure; 

Sometime all full with feasting on your sight 
And by and by clean starved for a look; 
Possessing or pursuing no delight, 
Save what is had or must from you be took. 

Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, 
Or gluttoning on all, or all away.
Ti te s pa i me pensieri come el pan pa a vita 
o come pa a tera e bee piove de primavera; 
e pal to ben soporte a stessa lota infinita
che tra l avaro e e so richeze par na guera: 

ora orgoglioso del so aver e insieme p
timoroso che el tenpo ladro ghe rube el so tesoro; 
ora pensando che  mejo restar da sol co ti 
e dopo preferir che el mondo posse vedar el me oro; 

talvolta pass de vderme pass che te varde 
par sentir suto dopo a fame de un to sguardo: 
no vendo o no zercando altro piazer, 
salvo quel che te m dat o che deve ancora aver. 

Cuss ora languisse e ora son pago, giorno dopo giorno,
de tut me strafoghe, o tut asse perda quel ch intorno.
sonetto 76
Why is my verse so barren of new pride, 
So far from variation or quick change? 
Why with the time do I not glance aside 
To new-found methods and to compounds strange? 

Why write I still all one, ever the same, 
And keep invention in a noted weed, 
That every word doth almost tell my name, 
Showing their birth and where they did proceed? 

O, know, sweet love, I always write of you, 
And you and love are still my argument; 
So all my best is dressing old words new, 
Spending again what is already spent: 

For as the sun is daily new and old, 
So is my love still telling what is told.
Parch el me verso l  cuss net de moderno tocio, 
cuss lontan da varianti o inprovisi canbiamenti? 
Parch seguendo a moda no bute un ocio 
a maniere nove e a stranezze p sorprendenti?
 
Parch ancora scrive sul unico tema, e l mingrume
limitando linventiva a na ben nota forma, 
tant che ogni paroea squasi sva el me nome 
mostrando a so origine e dove che a ritorna?
 
Oh sappi, dolze amor, che senpre scrive de ti, 
e ti e l amor se senpre el me tema sospeso: 
e quel che fae dee pare vecie l  rivestirle, 
spendendo ancora que che  z speso: 

parch come el sol l  ogni d vecio e novo, 
cuss el me amor ripete el z dita, ab ovo.
sonetto 77
Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, 
Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste; 
The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear, 
And of this book this learning mayst thou taste. 

The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show 
Of mouthed graves will give thee memory; 
Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know 
Time's thievish progress to eternity. 

Look, what thy memory can not contain 
Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find 
Those children nursed, deliver'd from thy brain, 
To take a new acquaintance of thy mind. 

These offices, so oft as thou wilt look, 
Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book.
El specio te dir come che a to beza se consuma,
a meridiana come el to prezioso tenpo va sprec; 
e pagine vode portar linpronta dei to pensieri 
e da sto libro te podar cavar sto insegnamento:
 
e rughe che el to specio rifletar sincero 
suscitar in ti el ricordo de tonbe verte; 
dal segreto moverse de lonbra su a meridiana, 
te vedar el progredir furtivo del tenpo a leternit. 

Varda, quel che a to memoria no pol ritegner 
consgneo a sti fogli vodi e in seguito te vedar 
sti fii ben curi, frut del to zervel, 
dar nova conoscenza a to mente.
 
Sta abitudine, ogni volta che te i vardar col cuor, 
te dar nova saggezza e el to libro far p sior.
sonetto 78
So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse 
And found such fair assistance in my verse 
As every alien pen hath got my use 
And under thee their poesy disperse. 

Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high to sing 
And heavy ignorance aloft to fly 
Have added feathers to the learned's wing 
And given grace a double majesty. 

Yet be most proud of that which I compile, 
Whose influence is thine and born of thee: 
In others' works thou dost but mend the style, 
And arts with thy sweet graces graced be; 

But thou art all my art and dost advance 
As high as learning my rude ignorance.
T invoc cuss spesso come me Musa 
otegnendo tal favor pa a me poesia, 
che ogni altra pena  copa el me costume 
e in to onor i so versi d via. 

I to oci, che g insegn al mut a levar el canto 
e a lignoranza grassa a voear sublime, 
li  zont pene ae e dei sapienti 
e i g dat dopia maest a grazia fine. 

Per sii p fiero de quel che conpone mi 
parch tua la  lispirazion e da ti la  nata: 
inte i versi de chealtri ti no te migliora che el stile 
e larte da e to grazie p graziosa vien fata, 

ma par mi ti te s tuta a me arte, ti te alza
a livel de sapienza a me rude ignoranza.
sonetto 79
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, 
My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, 
But now my gracious numbers are decay'd 
And my sick Muse doth give another place. 

I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument 
Deserves the travail of a worthier pen, 
Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent 
He robs thee of and pays it thee again. 

He lends thee virtue and he stole that word 
From thy behavior; beauty doth he give 
And found it in thy cheek; he can afford 
No praise to thee but what in thee doth live. 

Then thank him not for that which he doth say, 
Since what he owes thee thou thyself dost pay.
Finch son stat l unico a ricra al to aiuto, 
soltanto a me poesia  v el to gentil favor; 
ma adess e me be rime le  sfiore 
e a me musa straca assa el posto a altro. 

 vero, caro amor, el tema de a to beza 
merita l inpegno de na pena ben p sgaja; 
ma quel che el to poeta de ti sgreza 
lo roba a ti e de novo a ti el te o paga. 

Virt lu te ascrive e l  rob chea parea 
a to onest; beza lu te acorda 
e l trovada so e to ganasse; nol pol ofrirte 
altri meriti se no quei che in ti vive.
 
No sta ringraziarlo dunque par quel chel dise, 
quel che lu te restituisse ti te ghe l pag.
sonetto 80
O, how I faint when I of you do write, 
Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, 
And in the praise thereof spends all his might, 
To make me tongue-tied, speaking of your fame! 

But since your worth, wide as the ocean is, 
The humble as the proudest sail doth bear, 
My saucy bark inferior far to his 
On your broad main doth wilfully appear. 

Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat, 
Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride; 
Or being wreck'd, I am a worthless boat, 
He of tall building and of goodly pride: 

Then if he thrive and I be cast away, 
The worst was this; my love was my decay.
Quanta umiliazion prove co a me scritura 
de ti, savendo che un genio p bravo canta a to gloria 
e in lode de ti el spende tuta a so bravura, 
costrinzndome al sinzio se cante a to storia! 

Ma poich el to merito, come l oceano, grando
tien su sia l'mie che a p superba vea, 
a me barca sborona, de a sua tant manco, 
co fiducia al to immenso mar fa mostra de a.
 
Me tegnar a gea el to aiuto p indegno
intant che lu solca a to insondbie profondit; 
e, se sar sommers, mi no son che misero legno, 
e lu alta struttura de bona quait. 

Se mi sar naufrago e lu var fortuna,
el pezo sar che l amor mio l  stat a me rovina.
sonetto 81
Or I shall live your epitaph to make, 
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten; 
From hence your memory death cannot take, 
Although in me each part will be forgotten. 

Your name from hence immortal life shall have, 
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die: 
The earth can yield me but a common grave, 
When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. 

Your monument shall be my gentle verse, 
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read, 
And tongues to be your being shall rehearse 
When all the breathers of this world are dead; 

You still shall live--such virtue hath my pen-- 
Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.
Se vivar par scriva so a to tonba a to storia 
o se te me sopravivar co sar soto tera, 
mai morte podar da qua scancear a to memoria 
anca se ogni parte de mi cascar inte a not nera. 

El to nome cavar da mi vita immortal, 
anca se, na volta ndat, morir par tut el mondo: 
a tera a mi me dar soltanto na fossa comun, 
inveze ti te sar sepuo dei cuori intel fondo. 

To monumento sar i me versi devoti
che oci ancora no nati lezar atentamente; 
e lengue future i fati de a to esistenza rifar noti
co sar stu ogni respiro de vivente: 

te vivar par senpre  questa a virt del me quadernon  
dove sufia a vita, sui vari de ogni n.
sonetto 82
I grant thou wert not married to my Muse 
And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook 
The dedicated words which writers use 
Of their fair subject, blessing every book 

Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue, 
Finding thy worth a limit past my praise, 
And therefore art enforced to seek anew 
Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days 

And do so, love; yet when they have devised 
What strained touches rhetoric can lend, 
Thou truly fair wert truly sympathized 
In true plain words by thy true-telling friend; 

And their gross painting might be better used 
Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is abused.
 vero, no ti s spos a me Musa, 
e no t colpa se no te prova dispett 
pa e pare devote che i scritori usa 
pal so bel sojet, magnificando ogni so scritt.
 
Te s bel tant in conoscenza che in beza 
intel decida che el to merito supera e me lodi, 
e perci te s costret a ndar in zerca altrove 
de espression p moderne pa sti tenpi de bengodi. 

Fa pur, amor; ma quando altri var us 
tute e artificiose nfasi che a retorica pol ofrir, 
ti, veramente bel, a vera armonia te a trovar
inte e pare piane che el to amigo sincere sa dir. 

E dense tinte de chealtri por esser mejo use 
par altre zire pide: in ti le  sprece.
sonetto 83
I never saw that you did painting need 
And therefore to your fair no painting set; 
I found, or thought I found, you did exceed 
The barren tender of a poet's debt; 

And therefore have I slept in your report, 
That you yourself being extant well might show 
How far a modern quill doth come too short, 
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow. 

This silence for my sin you did impute, 
Which shall be most my glory, being dumb; 
For I impair not beauty being mute, 
When others would give life and bring a tomb. 

There lives more life in one of your fair eyes 
Than both your poets can in praise devise.
Mai me son inacort che el coeor te manchesse 
e perci no ghe n zont a to beza neta; 
 trov, o cuss m parest, che ti te superesse 
a msera oferta del tributo de un poeta: 

e perci  dormo coi elogi intel me quaderno, 
cuss che a to presenza dimostrar podesse
fin a che punto  scars un scribachin moderno
quando esalta a virt, a virt che in ti cresse.
 
Te m input come colpa sto me sinzio, 
mentre sar a me somma gloria, restar mut;
parch, tasendo, almanco no rovine a beza,
quando altri vol darghe vita e i la sepusse del tut. 

Vive p vita in uno dei to bei oci indiscreti
de quanta che sie boni de elogiarne i to do poeti.
sonetto 84
Who is it that says most? which can say more 
Than this rich praise, that you alone are you? 
In whose confine immured is the store 
Which should example where your equal grew. 

Lean penury within that pen doth dwell 
That to his subject lends not some small glory; 
But he that writes of you, if he can tell 
That you are you, so dignifies his story, 

Let him but copy what in you is writ, 
Not making worse what nature made so clear, 
And such a counterpart shall fame his wit, 
Making his style admired every where. 

You to your beauteous blessings add a curse, 
Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse.
Chio che de ti dise el mejo? chi pol dir el p bel
de sto bel elogio, che ti sol te si ti? 
Mur dento quai confini se trova el gioiel 
che dimostre che pol cressar un pari a ti? 

Squada miseria la  quea del scribachin 
che no presta al so sojet un fi de gloria: 
ma chi che de ti scrive, se sol el riesse a dir 
che ti te si ti, nobita par ben a so storia. 

Che l copie sol che quel che in ti  scritt, 
senza rovinar quel che a natura  cre cuss net, 
e sol che a copiadura eternar el so ingegno 
fasendo chel so ste vegne vist p che dret. 

Ma ae to bee grazie ti te ghe zonta a manfrina, 
na bramosia de elogi, che i to pregi rovina.
sonetto 85
My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, 
While comments of your praise, richly compiled, 
Reserve their character with golden quill 
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. 

I think good thoughts whilst other write good words, 
And like unletter'd clerk still cry 'Amen' 
To every hymn that able spirit affords 
In polish'd form of well-refined pen. 

Hearing you praised, I say ''Tis so, 'tis true,' 
And to the most of praise add something more; 
But that is in my thought, whose love to you, 
Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before. 

Then others for the breath of words respect, 
Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
A me Musa musona co dignit sta chieta, 
intant che comenti in lode tua, ben elabori, 
raforza el so dir co na pena aurea e neta 
e frasi preziose da e varie Muse ben lime. 

Se chealtri  be pare, mi nutre bei pensieri 
e come un zaghet ignorante Amen ripete: 
a ogni inno che l genio  mistieri
de crear co ste e pena be nete.

Sentndote lodar, mi dise:  L  cuss, l  vero 
e a lode p granda ghe zonte calcosseta in zima,
ma intel pensier, dove el me amor par ti sincero, 
bench tarde sie e pare, occupa a parte prima. 

Sii dunque grato a chealtri che i sa ben contarla, 
a mi pa i me pensieri muti, che tutavia parla.
sonetto 86
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, 
Bound for the prize of all too precious you, 
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, 
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? 

Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write 
Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? 
No, neither he, nor his compeers by night 
Giving him aid, my verse astonished. 

He, nor that affable familiar ghost 
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence 
As victors of my silence cannot boast; 
I was not sick of any fear from thence: 

But when your countenance fill'd up his line, 
Then lack'd I matter; that enfeebled mine.
a stata a vea s-gionfa del so verso potente, 
spiega a conquista de ti, p che mai preziosa, 
che  sofeg idee z pronte inte a me mente, 
fasendo tonba del grenbo dove  jera in posa?

o stat el so spirito, da spiriti istruo a scriva 
sovra ogni mortal bravura, che m fero a morte? 
No, n lu, n i so conpari che co riva 
not ghe d na man,  insordo a me corte. 

N lu n chel afbie genio de fameja 
che de not lo plagia co un savr scont da drio
pol vantarse de ver v sul me sinzio a mejo; 
no, no la  questa a rason che m intristo:

ma quando a to atenzion  tir su a so poesia, 
eora m manc el tema: questo  indeboo a mia.
sonetto 87
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, 
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: 
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; 
My bonds in thee are all determinate. 

For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? 
And for that riches where is my deserving? 
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, 
And so my patent back again is swerving. 

Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing, 
Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking; 
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, 
Comes home again, on better judgment making. 

Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter, 
In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.
S-ciao! Te s massa caro parch posse tegnerte
e ti te conosse anca massa a to quotazion: 
el titoeo del to vaeor te d diritto de verte, 
i vncoi che me legha a ti li  ndati in prescrizion. 

Come posse tegnerte se no co a to garanzia?
E par sta richeza dovo el me merito? 
A rason de sto prezioso dono manca in mi 
e cuss i me privigi i te ritorna intieri. 

Te t don no savendo el to vaeor, 
o mi, cui te t don, te me creda diverso; 
cuss el to immenso dono, fruto de eror, 
casa sua el torna su un giudizio un fi p terso. 

Mi t v quindi come illude un sogno: 
intel sno un re, ma co me son svej un gnogno.
sonetto 88
When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, 
And place my merit in the eye of scorn, 
Upon thy side against myself I'll fight, 
And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. 

With mine own weakness being best acquainted, 
Upon thy part I can set down a story 
Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted, 
That thou in losing me shalt win much glory: 

And I by this will be a gainer too; 
For bending all my loving thoughts on thee, 
The injuries that to myself I do, 
Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me. 

Such is my love, to thee I so belong, 
That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.
Co te var deciso de stimarme manco 
e te espor i me meriti al disprezzo p sicuro, 
contro de mi combatar al to fianco 
e provar che ti s sincero pur savndote spergiuro. 

Consapvoe che a me deboza la  questa qua, 
a to sostegno pore contarte a storia  
dee colpe sconte de cui me son maci, 
cuss che, perdndome, ti te posse avrghene gloria: 

e in tal modo anca mi ghe ne guadagnare: 
parch findo ogni me pensier damor su de ti, 
e gravi accuse che mi da mi me inputere, 
dndote a ti un vantajo, dopio el sare par mi. 

El me amor l  cuss grando e tant te appartegne, 
che par rason tua soportar tute e be magagne.
sonetto 89
Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, 
And I will comment upon that offence; 
Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt, 
Against thy reasons making no defence. 

Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill, 
To set a form upon desired change, 
As I'll myself disgrace: knowing thy will, 
I will acquaintance strangle and look strange, 

Be absent from thy walks, and in my tongue 
Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell, 
Lest I, too much profane, should do it wrong 
And haply of our old acquaintance tell. 

For thee against myself I'll vow debate, 
For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate.
Disi che te m moe par qualche me difet 
e mi rincarar a gravit de a to ofesa: 
disi che son zt, e no ndar p via dret 
n inbastir contro e to rason nissuna difesa.
 
No te podar, amor, denigrarme che par met, 
par dar corpo al fato che t canbi sest,
de quel che far mi: savendo a to voeont, 
sofegar l el ben che te vui e deventar un forest; 

evitar i to passi, e su a me boca 
mai p el to caro dolze nome se puzar, 
parch, blasfemo, un dano no ghe toche 
se ricorde a nostra vecia intimit. 

Par ti, parfin de ndar contro de mi podare, 
parch no posse vorghe ben a chi che te sta su e bae.
sonetto 90
Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; 
Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, 
Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, 
And do not drop in for an after-loss: 

Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scoped this sorrow, 
Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe; 
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, 
To linger out a purposed overthrow. 

If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, 
When other petty griefs have done their spite 
But in the onset come; so shall I taste 
At first the very worst of fortune's might, 

And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, 
Compared with loss of thee will not seem so.
diame co te vol; dess parch no, intant? 
dess chel mondo l  incline a sbararme el pass, 
afianca lira del destin, pigame de schianto 
ma no cascar su de mi par l ultimo sfracass. 

Se el me cuor sar scanp a sta prova, 
no sta vegner dopo na soferenza z doma; 
no sta dar a na not de vento na matina de piova 
par slongar na disfata ormai sconta. 

Se te vol assarme, no sta farlo al ultimo minut, 
quando altri doeori meschini me var fat stort, 
ma vien suto al assalto, cuss che me guste tut 
par primo el pezo de a me bruta sort. 

E ogni altra pena che ancuo me par na pena, 
paragonada a to perdita no me far p pena.
sonetto 91
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, 
Some in their wealth, some in their bodies' force, 
Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill, 
Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse; 

And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure, 
Wherein it finds a joy above the rest: 
But these particulars are not my measure; 
All these I better in one general best. 

Thy love is better than high birth to me, 
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost, 
Of more delight than hawks or horses be; 
And having thee, of all men's pride I boast: 

Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take 
All this away and me most wretched make.
Chi se gloria de a so nascita, chi del so ingegno, 
chi de a richeza, chi dei mscoi ponpai 
chi de vestir a moda, anca oltre el ritegno, 
chi vanta falchi e cani e chi i cavi. 

E ogni tenperamento  na so natura 
in cui el trova na gioia p granda de tut el resto; 
ma ste robete no se conf a me misura: 
mi queste le  ingrume tute intun zest. 

Par mi el to amor l  mejo de nbii nati, 
p sior de a richeza, p fiero de l'eleganza, 
un piazer p grando de quel de falchi o cavi; 
e avendo ti, de ogni vanto vae tut in baeanza: 

sfortun sol in questo, che te pol cavarme 
ogni roba e come el p desgrazi assarme.
sonetto 92
But do thy worst to steal thyself away, 
For term of life thou art assured mine, 
And life no longer than thy love will stay, 
For it depends upon that love of thine. 

Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, 
When in the least of them my life hath end. 
I see a better state to me belongs 
Than that which on thy humour doth depend; 

Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind, 
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie. 
O, what a happy title do I find, 
Happy to have thy love, happy to die! 

But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? 
Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.
Fa' pur del to pezo par scanparme via, 
par tuta a me vita ti te sar mio
e no durar p del to amor a vita mia, 
parch a dipende sol che dal afeto tuo. 

Quindi no  da ver paura del pezo dei torti 
se anca col p pcoeo a me vita la  fina; 
me par de meritar mejo sorte 
de quea che dei to tiri la  in baa. 

No te pol torturarme co a to incostanza 
dato che a me vita dipende dal to sparir. 
Che bel ttoeo  trov pa a circostanza:
contento del to amor, contento de morir! 

Ma esiste feicit che nvoe no epie? 
Te podare inganarme, senza che mi lo sepie.
sonetto 93
So shall I live, supposing thou art true, 
Like a deceived husband; so love's face 
May still seem love to me, though alter'd new; 
Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place: 

For there can live no hatred in thine eye, 
Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. 
In many's looks the false heart's history 
Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange, 

But heaven in thy creation did decree 
That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; 
Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be, 
Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell. 

How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, 
if thy sweet virtue answer not thy show!
Cuss vivar, credndote sincero,
come un maro illuso; e el volto del amor 
amor el me parar, anca se busier: 
i to oci co mi, altrove el to cuor. 

Dato che l odio no l pol viva inte i to oci, 
no posse leza in lori i canbiamenti: 
in tante ocie linfedelt de un cuor che fa pastroci
la  scritta in maeumori, rughe e insorimenti; 

ma el ciel intel crearte l  decret 
che intel to viso sol che dolze amor dimoresse; 
e quei che pensieri o moti del to cuor fusse sta, 
e to ocie no vare che dolcezza espress. 

Oh, come le cressere conpagne al pomo d'Eva e to beze 
se a to natura non fusse pari ae to fateze.
sonetto 94
They that have power to hurt and will do none, 
That do not do the thing they most do show, 
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, 
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow, 

They rightly do inherit heaven's graces 
And husband nature's riches from expense; 
They are the lords and owners of their faces, 
Others but stewards of their excellence. 

The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, 
Though to itself it only live and die, 
But if that flower with base infection meet, 
The basest weed outbraves his dignity: 

For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; 
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
Quei che podare ferir ma no i canbia ziera, 
che no usa a forza che li  in evidente dotazion, 
che fasendo pianza chealtri, resta de pira, 
duri, fredi e sordi a tentazion: 

quei gode davero del favor del ciel 
parch i protege i beni del creato dal spreco; 
quei li  siri e paroni del so muso bel, 
chealtri no li  che servi del so pregio. 

Un fior delist dona profumo a bea stajon 
anca sel vive e more soltanto che par lu, 
ma se chel fior marzisse de na infima infezion, 
a p vil erba mata intel confronto se tira su: 

p e robe le  dolzi, p le inzende co le  sfate, 
i gigli marzi spuza ben de p che no e erbe mate.
sonetto 95
How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame 
Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose, 
Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name! 
O, in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose! 

That tongue that tells the story of thy days, 
Making lascivious comments on thy sport, 
Cannot dispraise but in a kind of praise; 
Naming thy name blesses an ill report. 

O, what a mansion have those vices got 
Which for their habitation chose out thee, 
Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot, 
And all things turn to fair that eyes can see! 

Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege; 
The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge.
O, come che te sa renda dolz e ambie a vergogna 
che, come el verme ne a fragrante rosa, 
rovina a beza del to fiorente nome! 
O, in che decateze te si bon de serar i to peci!

A lengua che contar a storia dei to d 
comentando porza i to piazeri, 
no podar criticarte se no in forma de elogio: 
basta el to nome a ingentir tuti i rinbroti. 

O che splendida dimora  i vizi 
che par abitazion i t scelt ti, 
dove el manto de a beza coverze ogni schifo 
e converte in grazia tut quel che l ocio riesse a veda! 

Atento, cuor caro, a sto immenso privilegio: 
anca a lama p dura mal usa perde el fil.
sonetto 96
Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness; 
Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport; 
Both grace and faults are loved of more and less; 
Thou makest faults graces that to thee resort. 

As on the finger of a throned queen 
The basest jewel will be well esteem'd, 
So are those errors that in thee are seen 
To truths translated and for true things deem'd. 

How many lambs might the stem wolf betray, 
If like a lamb he could his looks translate! 
How many gazers mightst thou lead away, 
If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state! 

But do not so; I love thee in such sort 
As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
Qualcun dise che a to colpa la  a zovent, 
			un calcossa che te manca, 
qualcun che to grazia la  a verde et e a seduzion; 
pregi e difeti li  amai da chi p, da chi manco: 
ti te trasforma in grazie e colpe che le  
				a to dotazion. 

Come al do de na regina in trono sentada 
el p misero anel, afar de gran pregio l  stim, 
cuss le  e pche che su de ti na ociada
vede trasforme in virt e scanbie par verit.
 
Quanti agneti el lupo cativo pore adescar
se in agnel el tramutesse a so senbianza!
Quanti amiratori te podare inganar 
se te usesse el fascino de tuta a to creanza! 

Ma no sta farlo: mi te vui ben no so gnanca come 
che, essendo ti mio, mio l  anca el to bon nome.
sonetto 97
How like a winter hath my absence been 
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! 
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! 
What old December's bareness every where! 

And yet this time removed was summer's time, 
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, 
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime, 
Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease: 

Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me 
But hope of orphans and unfather'd fruit; 
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, 
And, thou away, the very birds are mute; 

Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer 
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.
Cof un inverno a me lontananza m parest
da ti, piazer de sto ano che tira via de stracanton! 
Che fredo che  sento, che d neri che  vist! 
Dapartut de sto vecio Dicenbre a desoeazion! 

Epur sto periodo d'assenza el tenpo de list el jera, 
el jera el frtie autuno, carico de produzion, 
che matura a semenza infena de a verta, 
come grenbo de vedova dopo a mort del so n: 

ma sta gran prosperit me senbra 
speranza de orfani, de buti senza pare, pori fruti
parch list e i so piazeri dipende da a to fava 
e, co ti lontan, anca i osi i  muti;

o, se i zingueta, l  co cuss poc spirito canterin 
che ogni foja inpaidisse temendo l inverno vizin.
sonetto 98
From you have I been absent in the spring, 
When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim 
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, 
That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. 

Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell 
Of different flowers in odour and in hue 
Could make me any summer's story tell, 
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; 

Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, 
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; 
They were but sweet, but figures of delight, 
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. 

Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, 
As with your shadow I with these did play.
Son rest da ti lontan in primavera 
quando el bel Apre, tut de trine vesto, 
suscita un brio de zovent in ogni piera 
che el serio Saturno rida e insieme el fa el deso. 

Ma, n i canti dei osi, n el profumo carame 
dei vari fiori, diversi par fragranza e par coeor, 
poda indurme a contar e storie de list 
o a ciorli su dal grenbo dove che i vegna in fior: 

e gnanca me incanta el candor dei gigli 
n  apprezz el ross vivo de e rose; 
no i jera che dolzara, deiziosi cartigli
che te rafigura ti, model de chee forme deiziose. 

Ma par mi jera senpre inverno e, co ti assente, 
me son diverto co lore come co lombra tua darente.
sonetto 99
The forward violet thus did I chide: 
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, 
If not from my love's breath? The purple pride 
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells 

In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed. 
The lily I condemned for thy hand, 
And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair: 
The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, 

One blushing shame, another white despair; 
A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both 
And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath; 
But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth 
A vengeful canker eat him up to death. 

More flowers I noted, yet I none could see 
But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
Cuss  rimprover a viota tuta in baeanza: 
ladra soave, a chi atu rob el to dolze che odora 
se no al respiro del me amor? E a purpurea aroganza 
che su e to tnare ganasse col so coeor dimora

 ovio che da e vene del me amor te l ciolta. 
 acus el giglio del plagio de a to man, 
e i fiori de majorana de a to chioma folta: 
e rose timorose su e spine se leva drio man, 

una rossa de vergogna, chealtra bianca de paura; 
na terza, n rossa n bianca, va rob questo e quel 
e a so rapina a ghe va zont el to respiro; 
ma, par chel so furto, nel vigor de tut el so vegner bel, 
un verme vendicativo la divora e la fa morir. 

Altri fiori  not, ma no ghe n vist uno 
che no te vesse rob o el coeor o el profumo.
sonetto 100
Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long 
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might? 
Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song, 
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light? 

Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem 
In gentle numbers time so idly spent; 
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem 
And gives thy pen both skill and argument. 

Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey, 
If Time have any wrinkle graven there; 
If any, be a satire to decay, 
And make Time's spoils despised every where. 

Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life; 
So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife.
Dove situ, Musa mia, che da tant tenpo te manca 
de cantar chi te dona tut el to potente ingegno? 
Consmitu el to fervor in canti che no conta gnanca 
gnent, brusando a to vena pa illuminar temi indegni? 

Ritorna, desmentegona, e suto redimi 
co giusti metri el tenpo mand in aso; 
canta so a recia che apprezza e to rime 
e dona a to pena sangue, carne e so. 

lzate, Musa indormenza, el dolze viso del me amor 
					scruta
par veda se el Tempo l  scolpo qualche ruga; 
e se ghi n, sii satira de a decadenza bruta
e rendi dispreza ogni razzia del Tenpo in fuga. 

Daghe fama al amor mio prima che el Tenpo lo devaste
cuss da prevegner a so lama perversa e guasta.
sonetto 101
O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends 
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? 
Both truth and beauty on my love depends; 
So dost thou too, and therein dignified. 

Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say 
'Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix'd; 
Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay; 
But best is best, if never intermix'd?' 

Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb? 
Excuse not silence so; for't lies in thee 
To make him much outlive a gilded tomb, 
And to be praised of ages yet to be. 

Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how 
To make him seem long hence as he shows now.
Musa scansafadighe, quaea sar a to scusa 
par ver trascur a virt inpregna de splendor? 
Sul me amor, virt e beza insieme e se puza
e cuss fa anca ti, e rndeghe onor. 

Dame risposta, Musa, vutu forse dir: 
"Virt no  bisogno de pitura, co i so coeori fissi, 
n beza del penel per mostrar el so vestir; 
ma el mejo risplende mejo se no se o missia?. 

Parch a lu no ghe serve lode, staratu muta? 
No trovar scuse pal to sinzio, parch  in to poder 
far s che lu sopravvive a na bea tonba bruta 
e chel sie l elogio de epoche ancora da vegner. 

Fa dunque el to dover, Musa: mi te insegnar seguro 
a mostrarlo come che lu l  adess intel tenpo futuro.
sonetto 102
My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming; 
I love not less, though less the show appear: 
That love is merchandized whose rich esteeming 
The owner's tongue doth publish every where. 

Our love was new and then but in the spring 
When I was wont to greet it with my lays, 
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing 
And stops her pipe in growth of riper days: 

Not that the summer is less pleasant now 
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, 
But that wild music burthens every bough 
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. 

Therefore like her I sometime hold my tongue, 
Because I would not dull you with my song.
El me sentimento l  p forte anca se el par p dboe; 
no ame de manco, pur se manco lo mostre qua; 
l  roba da marc l amor el cui gran pregio 
l  dal so paron ovunque decant.
 
El nostro amor jera zovane pena in primavera 
quando jere sito festejarlo coi me storni, 
come Filmela che al inizio de list a fa na zinguetera 
e la tase co riva i giorni dei fruti p bei: 

no che list sie manco bea adess che a ne copa
de quando i so inni mesti anca a not i fa tasa, 
ma chea musica selvarega pesa da ogni stropa 
e e dolzare tant comuni no merita soasa. 
 
E cuss come Filomela qualche volta a lengua ingrope,  
parch no vui anoiarte co a me canzon da strope.
sonetto 103
Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth, 
That having such a scope to show her pride, 
The argument all bare is of more worth 
Than when it hath my added praise beside! 

O, blame me not, if I no more can write! 
Look in your glass, and there appears a face 
That over-goes my blunt invention quite, 
Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace. 

Were it not sinful then, striving to mend, 
To mar the subject that before was well? 
For to no other pass my verses tend 
Than of your graces and your gifts to tell; 

And more, much more, than in my verse can sit 
Your own glass shows you when you look in it.
Poro mi, quanta povert spande a me Musa arida
che pur vendo tal fonte par mostrar el so brio 
 p vaeor lu da sol pari pari
de quando che el se porta el me elogio dro.
 
No, no sta biasimarme se no so p usar a pena! 
Varda intel to specio e aparir un viso 
che de tant supera sta me fiaca vena 
che incaiva i me versi e me fa sentir deriso. 

No sare un pec, par vor giustar a mira, 
rovinar el sojet che prima el va i mejo voti? 
Parch ad altro i me versi no aspira 
che a cantar e to grazie e e to doti. 

E p, tant de p, de quel che tra i me versi se fa strada 
te o dise el specio co te ghe buta na ociada.
sonetto 104
To me, fair friend, you never can be old, 
For as you were when first your eye I eyed, 
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold 
Have from the forests shook three summers' pride, 

Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd 
In process of the seasons have I seen, 
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd, 
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green. 

Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand, 
Steal from his figure and no pace perceived; 
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand, 
Hath motion and mine eye may be deceived: 

For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred; 
Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.
Par mi, caro amigo, no te sar mai vecio: 
come te jera a prima volta che i me oci t incros, 
cuss me par ancora a to beza; tre inverni taja-rece
i  but bass dai alberi l orgoglio de tre ist, 

tre be primavere che le  marze in zai autuni 
 vist intel susseguir dee stajon, 
tre Aprili profumi i s brus intel fogo de tre Giugni 
da quando t vist in fior, che te s ancora verde n.
 
Cuss fa a beza, come lonbra su a meridiana: 
a vien vanti furtiva senza mostrarne el pass; 
e cuss a to frescheza, che de star ferma mingana, 
 un movimento, e l ocio mio se fa inbrojar: 

se dunque t paura de questo, scolta qua, Posterit: 
prima che te rivesse, de a beza jera z morta list.
sonetto 105
Let not my love be call'd idolatry, 
Nor my beloved as an idol show, 
Since all alike my songs and praises be 
To one, of one, still such, and ever so. 

Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind, 
Still constant in a wondrous excellence; 
Therefore my verse to constancy confined, 
One thing expressing, leaves out difference. 

'Fair, kind and true' is all my argument, 
'Fair, kind, and true' varying to other words; 
And in this change is my invention spent, 
Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords. 

'Fair, kind, and true,' have often lived alone, 
Which three till now never kept seat in one.
Che no l vegne ciam el me sentimento idolatria, 
n che el me caro amor un deo vegne cred 
parch tute conpagne le  e me lodi e a me sinfonia 
par uno sol, e sol a uno, senpre cuss e senpre a lu. 

Devoto l  ancuo el me amor, e doman el sar devoto, 
senpre costante inte a so splendida perfezion;
e dunque a me poesia, che a costanza  fat voto, 
esprimendo na roba sea, ignora variazion. 

"Beza, bont e virt" li  tut el me tema, 
"beza, bont e virt" varianti de qualche altra parea; 
e inte sto canbiamento se stua a me vena, 
tre temi in uno, che un superbo canpo sorvea. 

"Beza, bont e virt" spess da se le sona, 
ma mai le  dimor inte ununica persona.
sonetto 106
When in the chronicle of wasted time 
I see descriptions of the fairest wights, 
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme 
In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, 

Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, 
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, 
I see their antique pen would have express'd 
Even such a beauty as you master now. 

So all their praises are but prophecies 
Of this our time, all you prefiguring; 
And, for they look'd but with divining eyes, 
They had not skill enough your worth to sing: 

For we, which now behold these present days, 
Had eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
Quando inte a cronaca dei tenpi persi 
leze e descrizion de tipi straordinari, 
e a beza che rende bi i antichi versi 
in lode de dame defunte e de nbii cavalieri, 

aeora, inte lapoteosi de a grazia p bea 
de a man, del pe, del varo, del ocio, de a front, 
sente che i veci inchiostri esprimar i voa
lunica beza de cui dess te s ti paron e fonte. 

Cuss tuti quei elogi no li  che profezie 
de sto nostro tenpo, e tute ti le prefigura; 
e poich lori veda sol co oci de presaghe buse, 
no li  stati boni de dar risalto a to figura: 

mentre noialtri che viven sti d presenti
avn oci pa mirar ma no lingua pa i complimenti.
sonetto 107
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul 
Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, 
Can yet the lease of my true love control, 
Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom. 

The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured 
And the sad augurs mock their own presage; 
Incertainties now crown themselves assured 
And peace proclaims olives of endless age. 

Now with the drops of this most balmy time 
My love looks fresh, and death to me subscribes, 
Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme, 
While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes: 

And thou in this shalt find thy monument, 
When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.
E me paure no, e gnanca el spirito divinator 
del mondo intiero che pronostica l avenir, 
pol fissar a durata del me devoto amor, 
condan a dover inevitabilmente finir. 

A luna mortal a so eclissi  super
e i tristi indovini ride dei previsti maeni; 
e incertezze adess se corona rassicure 
e pase proclama i ulivi de un milion de ani. 

Co l efluvio de sto tenpo che se fa p terso 
el me amor par rinato, e Mort me sta sotomessa, 
dato che, a scorno suo, vivar senpre intel me verso, 
mentre a infierir sui tonti e su quei co a fava malmessa, 

e ti intel me verso te trovar el to monumento, 
quando corone de tiranni e tonbe de bronzo sar ndate a remengo.
sonetto 108
What's in the brain that ink may character 
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit? 
What's new to speak, what new to register, 
That may express my love or thy dear merit? 

Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine, 
I must, each day say o'er the very same, 
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine, 
Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name. 

So that eternal love in love's fresh case 
Weighs not the dust and injury of age, 
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place, 
But makes antiquity for aye his page, 

Finding the first conceit of love there bred 
Where time and outward form would show it dead.
o altro intel zervel che l inchiostro posse contar 
che a ti no l epie za dedic el me sincero spirito? 
Cossa dir ancora de novo, cossa ancora registrar 
par esprima el me amor o el to prezioso merito?
 
Gnent, caro zovane; ma ancora, come co a corona 
del rosario, deve ripeta ogni d e stesse robe, 
no sentendo vecio el vecio ti mio, mi tuo che sona
come a prima volta che  santific el to bel nome.
 
Cuss l eterno amor in veste nova, 
no d peso a polvere e a lofesa dei ani 
n spazio pa e rughe inevitbii el trova, 
ma el costrenze i ani a frenar i so maeani, 

trovando a prima vanit damor perpetuada 
dove tenpo e aparenza i la pensare desfada.
sonetto 109
O, never say that I was false of heart, 
Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify. 
As easy might I from myself depart 
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie: 

That is my home of love: if I have ranged, 
Like him that travels I return again, 
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged, 
So that myself bring water for my stain. 

Never believe, though in my nature reign'd 
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, 
That it could so preposterously be stain'd, 
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good; 

For nothing this wide universe I call, 
Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.
No, no sta mai dir che son stat falso de cuor 
anca se lassenza a parest ridur e me fave; 
come no  fzie che da mi posse cirmea, 
cuss da me nema, che intel to pto vive:
 
quea la  a tana mia damor; se  vag 
come chi viaja, l de novo fae ritorno
fedelmente puntue, dal tenpo no canbi, 
tant che mi par primo porte acqua al me scorno. 

No sta mai creda, anca se in mi regnesse 
tute e deboze che insidia carne, sangue e fig, 
che maciarme in modo tant assurdo posse
da perda par gnent a somma de e to quait: 

parch gnent mi ciame sto universo tut,
tranne ti, rosa mia; in lu ti te s el me tut.
sonetto 110
Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there 
And made myself a motley to the view, 
Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, 
Made old offences of affections new; 

Most true it is that I have look'd on truth 
Askance and strangely: but, by all above, 
These blenches gave my heart another youth, 
And worse essays proved thee my best of love. 

Now all is done, have what shall have no end: 
Mine appetite I never more will grind 
On newer proof, to try an older friend, 
A god in love, to whom I am confined. 

Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best, 
Even to thy pure and most most loving breast.
Poro mi,  vero, son ndat de qua e de  
e  fat de mi un dei tanti pajazeti, 
 sbus i me pensieri, vend par gnent quel che val,
e par nove sensazion ofeso veci afeti. 

E, ancora p vero,  vard a fedelt 
co sospet e distaco; ma, al de  de tut, 
ste incerteze  dat al me cuor nova vitait 
e e pezo prove t dimostr el me amor p sut. 

Dess  tut pass, tien quel che no var mai fine: 
ai me apetiti mai p sufiar par soto 
co esperienze nove, par tegner l amigo so e spine, 
un dio in amor, a cui son devoto. 

Assa dunque che torne al me paradiso, 
e anca al to p puro e bel soriso.
sonetto 111
O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, 
The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, 
That did not better for my life provide 
Than public means which public manners breeds. 

Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, 
And almost thence my nature is subdued 
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand: 
Pity me then and wish I were renew'd; 

Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink 
Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection 
No bitterness that I will bitter think, 
Nor double penance, to correct correction. 

Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye
Even that your pity is enough to cure me.
Par carit, te preghe, rinprovera a Fortuna, 
divinit colpvoe de ogni me bruta azion, 
che mejo pa a me vita no la  proved 
se no coi mezi grezi de e maniere de un zapegon. 

Da qua vien el marchio che al me nome fa disonor, 
e par questo a me natura s squasi degrad 
nel far el so lavoro, come a man del tintor: 
abbi quindi piet de mi e fa che vegne rinov. 

Intant, come un mae ubidiente, bevar
dosi de aso contro a me bruta infezion: 
nissuna amareza sar par mi cuss amara
n dopia punizion par corja a corezion. 

Abbi piet de mi, caro amigo, e te assicure 
che anca a to piet basta pa e me cure.
sonetto 112
Your love and pity doth the impression fill
Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow; 
For what care I who calls me well or ill, 
So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow? 

You are my all the world, and I must strive 
To know my shames and praises from your tongue: 
None else to me, nor I to none alive, 
That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong. 

In so profound abysm I throw all care 
Of others' voices, that my adder's sense
To critic and to flatterer stopped are.
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense: 

You are so strongly in my purpose bred 
That all the world besides methinks are dead.
Che l amor tuo e a piet posse scancear a brda 
che el scndaeo de a zente m inpress su a fronte; 
che minporta se qualchedun me dispreza o me loda
finch ti te coverze el mal, e del me ben te s a fonte?
 
Ti te s el me intiero mondo e mi me ingegne
de capir e me vergogne e i me pregi da to boca: 
nissun altro par mi esiste, n altri fae degni 
che a me voeont de fero canbie o reste basoca.
 
In cuss profondo abisso bute l intaresse 
pa e vosi de chealtri, che el me istinto da serpente 
no bada a quel che critici e adueatori me disesse. 
Ecco parch no mostre intaresse par gnente: 

te s talmente radic inte i pensieri mii de ogni sort, 
che tut quel che me circonda me par mort.
sonetto 113
Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind;
And that which governs me to go about
Doth part his function and is partly blind, 
Seems seeing, but effectually is out; 

For it no form delivers to the heart
Of bird of flower, or shape, which it doth latch: 
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,
Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch: 

For if it see the rudest or gentlest sight, 
The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature, 
The mountain or the sea, the day or night, 
The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature: 

Incapable of more, replete with you, 
My most true mind thus makes mine eye untrue.
Da quando t ass, i me oci li  intel me cuor
e lori, che dovare menar i passi mii, 
i se cava dal so conpito e li  in parte orbi, 
i crede de veda, ma in realt li  un fi inpedi: 

parch no i trasmete al cuor nissun quadro 
de osi, fiori o forme che li intuisse, 
n tratien a ment gnent dee so ocie ladre, 
n a so vista tratien quel che i percepisse: 

sia che lori vede robe deicate o fate de stranbot, 
a ziera p dolz o creatura senza creanza, 
a montagna o el mar, el d o a not, 
el corvo o a coeonba, lu tut el fa a to senbianza: 

no savendo far de p, colmi soltant de ti, 
el me cuor devoto costrenze i oci a mentir.
sonetto 114
Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you, 
Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery? 
Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true,
And that your love taught it this alchemy, 

To make of monsters and things indigest 
Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble, 
Creating every bad a perfect best, 
As fast as objects to his beams assemble? 

O,'tis the first; 'tis flattery in my seeing, 
And my great mind most kingly drinks it up: 
Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing, 
And to his palate doth prepare the cup: 

If it be poison'd, 'tis the lesser sin 
That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.
Pol essar che el me cuor, s-ciavo del to regno, 
sinbriaghe del ven che usa i re, a busa? 
O deve dir che el me ocio vede a segno 
e che l amor par ti el gh insegn lalchimia

de trasformar mostri e ogni roba informe 
in dolzi cherubini conpagni al to de fora, 
canbiando ogni brutura in perfete forme 
pena che a luce dei so rai ghe casca sora? 

No: la  a prima: l  l ingano de a me vista 
che el me cuor generoso beve pa intiero:
el me ocio ben conosse quel che a lu ghe gusta 
e pal so paeato predispone el so bicier. 

Sel fusse inveen, no sare un gran pec:
al me ocio el ghe piase e lo  bel che trinc.
sonetto 115
Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you dearer: 
Yet then my judgment knew no reason why 
My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer. 

But reckoning time, whose million'd accidents 
Creep in 'twixt vows and change decrees of kings, 
Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents, 
Divert strong minds to the course of altering things; 

Alas, why, fearing of time's tyranny, 
Might I not then say 'Now I love you best,' 
When I was certain o'er incertainty, 
Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? 

Love is a babe; then might I not say so, 
To give full growth to that which still doth grow?
I versi che finora  scrit li  busieri de sicuro, 
specie dove  dit che no te poe amar de p:
chea volta a me mente no sava che in futuro 
na fiama tant granda podesse rivar a brusar cuss. 

Ma pensando al tenpo, che i so infiniti eventi 
sinsinua tra i giuramenti e canbia i decreti dei re, 
e despoja beze sacre, e stronca audaci intendimenti,
e porta a lincostanza e menti p salde che ,

ahim parch  temendo del Tenpo a caveza - 
no  dit allora: Dess te ame el mejo che  poest, 
co jere sicuro, al de  de ogni incerteza, 
de consacrar chel presente, ignaro del rest? 

Amor l  un tosatel; poe no dir cuss allora, 
sentendo che dova cressa quel che cresse ancora.
sonetto 116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds 
Admit impediments. Love is not love 
Which alters when it alteration finds, 
Or bends with the remover to remove: 

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark 
That looks on tempests and is never shaken; 
It is the star to every wandering bark, 
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. 
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 

Within his bending sickle's compass come: 
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 
But bears it out even to the edge of doom. 

If this be error and upon me proved, 
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
No sia mai che mi mete inpedimenti 
a lunion de anime sincere; Amor no l  amor 
se el canbia quando el scopre canbiamenti 
o el tende, quando chealtro s'allontana, a farse cior. 

Oh no! Amor l  un faro senpre fiss 
che sovrasta a tenpesta e no fa mai baeanza; 
l  a sta che guida ogni barca che va de sbriss, 
el cui vaeor l  sconoss, bench nota sie a distanza. 

Amor no l  el pajazz del Tenpo, pur se vari e ganasse rosa
dovar cascar soto a so curva lama; 
in poche ore o setimane Amor no l muta posa, 
ma inpavido el resiste al d che Dio ciama: 

se questo l  sbaj e el me sar prov, 
mi no  mai scrit, e nissun  mai am.
sonetto 117
Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all 
Wherein I should your great deserts repay, 
Forgot upon your dearest love to call, 
Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day; 

That I have frequent been with unknown minds 
And given to time your own dear-purchased right 
That I have hoisted sail to all the winds 
Which should transport me farthest from your sight. 

Book both my wilfulness and errors down 
And on just proof surmise accumulate; 
Bring me within the level of your frown, 
But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate; 

Since my appeal says I did strive to prove 
The constancy and virtue of your love.
Acseme pur de verte trascur pa intiero
quando vare dovest i to grandi meriti ripagar, 
de ver desmenteg de venerar el to amor p vero
che giorno par giorno senpre p me tien lig; 

de ver v confidenza co ignota zent,
e dat al vento el to diritto ben pag; 
de ver spieg a va a tuti i venti 
che daa to vista m senpre p lontan.

Registra pur a me caparbiet e i me erori 
e ae prove ciare zonta pur el to sospett; 
fame bersaglio dee to ocie e dei to furori, 
ma no sta colpirme inte a foga del to dispett: 

parch a me difesa dise che  voss tentar 
a costanza e a forza del to amar.
sonetto 118
Like as, to make our appetites more keen, 
With eager compounds we our palate urge, 
As, to prevent our maladies unseen, 
We sicken to shun sickness when we purge, 

Even so, being tuff of your ne'er-cloying sweetness, 
To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding 
And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meetness 
To be diseased ere that there was true needing. 

Thus policy in love, to anticipate 
The ills that were not, grew to faults assured 
And brought to medicine a healthful state 
Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cured: 

But thence I learn, and find the lesson true, 
Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you.
Cuss come par svejar el nostro apetito 
stimon el paeato co goeosezi picanti 
e par prevegner maeate senza alcun sintomo, 
se man per evitar linfermit cioendo purganti: 

anca mi, colmo de a to instancbie dolceza, 
 orient el me magnar su salse amargnoe
e, pass de piazer,  trov piacevoeza 
nel essar mae senza che ghe fusse bisogno. 

Ma sta strategia in amor de premunirse 
dai mi inesistenti,  dat vita a colpe sparse
e fino par aggravar un stato che poa dirse
san e, sior de benessere,l  voest col mal curarse.
 
Ma da questo inpare, e trove a lezion intiva, 
che e medesine invena chi che de ti s mae.
sonetto 119
What potions have I drunk of Siren tears, 
Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within, 
Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears, 
Still losing when I saw myself to win! 

What wretched errors hath my heart committed, 
Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never! 
How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted 
In the distraction of this madding fever! 

O benefit of ill! now I find true 
That better is by evil still made better; 
And ruin'd love, when it is built anew, 
Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater. 

So I return rebuked to my content 
And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.
Deve ver bev de e Sirene greme pure
distie da alanbichi immondi che l inferno inpiza,
par dar paura ae speranze e speranze ae paure, 
sentendo de ver pers anca quando me vede vinza!
 
Che stupide pol ver conbin el me cuor, 
quando el creda de no ver vu grazia cuss tant! 
I me oci come che i nda a spasso fora dae orbite 
ne leccitazion de a freve deirante! 

Ma l mal l  el so vantajo! Adess vede come ovio 
che senpre el ben l  dal mal fat p santo 
e che l amor infranto, ricostruo a novo, 
cresse ancora p bel, p forte, p grando. 

Cuss, mortific, ritorne al amor mio, da lu, 
e dal mal guadagne tre volte quel che  spend.
sonetto 120
That you were once unkind befriends me now, 
And for that sorrow which I then did feel 
Needs must I under my transgression bow, 
Unless my nerves were brass or hammer'd steel. 

For if you were by my unkindness shaken 
As I by yours, you've pass'd a hell of time, 
And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken 
To weigh how once I suffered in your crime. 

O, that our night of woe might have remember'd 
My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits, 
And soon to you, as you to me, then tender'd 
The humble slave which wounded bosoms fits! 

But that your trespass now becomes a fee; 
Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.

A to crudelt de un tenpo anco me juta, 
parch mmore del doer che m fat dir aio 
no vegne schinz dal rimorso de a me bruta 
mancanza, ch no  nervi de bronzo, n dacciaio. 

Se anca ti, pa e colpe mie, t prov 
langoscia che  prov mi par ti, momenti dinferno 
te var pass, e mi, da stronzo, no me son preocup 
de pesar quel che un d  pato pal to scherno.
 
O, se quea cupa not dangoscia vesse ricord 
al me sentir quant che stronca un doer sincero, 
par darte, come che t fat ti co mi, un fi
de lmie pomata che d conforto ai cuori de vero! 

Ma a to crudelt dun tenpo anco me d energia, 
e se a mia riscata a tua, a tua riscata a mia.
sonetto 121
'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd, 
When not to be receives reproach of being, 
And the just pleasure lost which is so deem'd 
Not by our feeling but by others' seeing: 

For why should others false adulterate eyes 
Give salutation to my sportive blood? 
Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, 
Which in their wills count bad what I think good? 

No, I am that I am, and they that level 
At my abuses reckon up their own: 
I may be straight, though they themselves be bevel; 
By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown; 

Unless this general evil they maintain, 
All men are bad, and in their badness reign.
 mejo essar colpvoe che ssarlo stim 
quando no essndoeo se vien accusai de ssarlo; 
quando ogni vaeor sincero va pers, condan 
no dal nostro sentir, ma parch chealtri no sa vdarlo. 

Parch mai dovare i oci de chealtri adulteri 
considerar vizioso el me amoroso gusto? 
Parch inte me voje sinsinua spie de coci
che de suo condana quel che mi ritegne giusto? 

No, mi son quel che son, e quei che fa un striss nero 
soto i me erori, sotolinea quei che lori  conbin: 
pore esser mi sincero e lori non dir el vero; 
dal so mal pensar no vien quel che mi fae ben pes; 

a meno che el mal comun no i sostegne, 
che lumanit la  cativa e intel so mal a regna.
sonetto 122
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain 
Full character'd with lasting memory, 
Which shall above that idle rank remain 
Beyond all date, even to eternity; 

Or at the least, so long as brain and heart
Have faculty by nature to subsist; 
Till each to razed oblivion yield his part
Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd. 

That poor retention could not so much hold,
Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score; 
Therefore to give them from me was I bold,
To trust those tables that receive thee more: 

To keep an adjunct to remember thee 
Were to import forgetfulness in me.
El to regaeo, el to diario, l  qua inte a me ment, 
scolpo su a memoria, e durar
p dei fogli che no conta gnent,
al de  de ogni tenpo, sin a leternit, 

o per lo meno, finch a me ment e el cuor mio
var da natura a facolt de sostegnerse; 
e finch no li cedar al rovinoso oblo 
parte de ti, e memorie de ti no ndar mai perse. 

Chel poro diario non poda tegner tut, 
e no me serve note par ricordarme del to amor, 
perci a separrmene son stat costret
fidandome del quaderno che te tien co p vigor: 

tegner un promemoria che me jute a ricordarme de ti 
sare come ameta un desmentegon in mi.
sonetto 123
No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: 
Thy pyramids built up with newer might 
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; 
They are but dressings of a former sight. 

Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire 
What thou dost foist upon us that is old, 
And rather make them born to our desire 
Than think that we before have heard them told. 

Thy registers and thee I both defy, 
Not wondering at the present nor the past, 
For thy records and what we see doth lie, 
Made more or less by thy continual haste. 

This I do vow and this shall ever be; 
I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee.
No, Tenpo, mai te por vantarte che canbie pastran: 
e piramidi che te tira-s co senpre nova forza 
no me dise gnent, no le  gnent de strano: 
no le  che vestiti novi de a vecia scorza. 

Breve l  larco de a vita, perci amiren  
a novit che te ne buta doss, che per la  vecia, 
e preferin crdarla fata cuss parch cuss la von 
pitost che pensar che a ne jera z rivada in recia.

Mi te sfide, Tenpo, i to registri e ti, 
no me sorprende el presente n quel fino soto a scuria,
i to resti e quel che veden dise buse, 
fate grande o pcoe da a to continua furia: 

questo mi te giure e questo mi far; 
a dispet tuo e del to falzin, no canbiar.
sonetto 124
If my dear love were but the child of state, 
It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd' 
As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate,
Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather'd. 

No, it was builded far from accident; 
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of thralled discontent, 
Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls: 

It fears not policy, that heretic, 
Which works on leases of short-number'd hours, 
But all alone stands hugely politic, 
That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with showers. 

To this I witness call the fools of time,
Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime.
Se el me gran sentimento fusse fiol de a sorte, 
pal bastardo del Destin sare come no ver genitori 
ora sojet al amor del Tenpo, ora al so odio, 
erbaza fra e erbaze, o fior ingrum tra i fiori. 

No, el me amor l  nass lontan da ste sventure; 
no l subisse i fasti soridenti, n l  soconbente 
soto i colpi dee schifose congiure 
a cui el tenpo intrigante espone a nostra zente: 

no l teme ipocrisia, leretica  tal la intive   
che sta in pe soltanto par brevi ore conte, 
ma da sol e par conto suo saviamente el vive, 
cuss nol cresse col caldo n el se bagna co e piove. 

E ciame a testimoni i credueoni del Tenpo che scanpa via, 
che, morti paa verit, jera vissui pa na busa.
sonetto 125
Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy, 
With my extern the outward honouring, 
Or laid great bases for eternity, 
Which prove more short than waste or ruining? 

Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour 
Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent,
For compound sweet forgoing simple savour, 
Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent? 

No, let me be obsequious in thy heart, 
And take thou my oblation, poor but free,
Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art, 
But mutual render, only me for thee. 

Hence, thou suborn'd informer! a true soul
When most impeach'd stands least in thy control.
Parch portar el baldachin damasc, 
magnificando apertamente laparenza, 
o getar fondamente grosse pa na eternit 
p frge de rovine e decadenza? 

No  forse vist tipi avidi de vanit e favori 
perdar tut par ver pag a prezzo massa alt
grazie efimere, desmentegando i veri saori, 
mercenari da poc, persi intel so sparar alt? 

No, assa che vive devoto intel to cuor,
e ciapa sta oferta, pcoea ma spontanea, 
no framista a scorie, e che no conosse frode, 
ma che canbia a pari, mi par ti.

Va via, infame spion! Unanema sincera 
quant p la  accusada, manco la  to prigioniera.
sonetto 126
O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power 
Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; 
Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st 
Thy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow'st; 

If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack, 
As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back, 
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill 
May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill. 

Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure! 
She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure: 
Her audit, though delay'd, answer'd must be, 
And her quietus is to render thee.
Ti, zvane bel, che te tien tra e to man strete 
l instbie specio del Tenpo, el so falzin, e lancete; 
che te cresse declinando e te mostra de fora 
i to amanti che sfiorisse mentre ti te tinfiora; 

se Natura, artefice sovrana de ogni rovino, 
intant che te va vanti intel tenpo a te riporta indro, 
lo fa soltanto parch el so traguardo 
l  screditar el Tenpo e copar i minuti del degrado. 

Ma vrdate da a, ti, sbeto del so piazer: 
a pol trategner, no tegner par senpre, el bel aver!  
El so debito, anca in ritardo, dovar essar restituo, 
e a so quietanza sar de restituirte ti.
sonetto 127
In the old age black was not counted fair, 
Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; 
But now is black beauty's successive heir, 
And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame: 

For since each hand hath put on nature's power, 
Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd face, 
Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower, 
But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace. 

Therefore my mistress' brows are raven black, 
Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem 
At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack, 
Slandering creation with a false esteem: 

Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe, 
That every tongue says beauty should look so.
Un tenpo el nero nol jera consider bel 
o sel ghe jera, nol porta el nome de a beza; 
dess invenze el nero l  par succession so fiol 
e a beza vien avvia da na vergogna bastarda:

da quando ognun usurpa el poder de a natura 
abendo el brut con na maschera ciapa in prestio, 
a vera beza no  p n nome n sacra ciusura, 
ma vien profana, quando che no a vive in discredito. 

Par questo e zeje de a me dna le  corvine, nere, 
i so oci cuss adati, che i senbra vestir a lutto 
chi, no nata bionda, no manca de beze vere, 
smentendo a natura che mal giudica el brut:

lori pianze co tanta grazia el so lamento 
che ognun dise che a beza dovare ver sto vestimento.
sonetto 128
How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st, 
Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds 
With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st 
The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, 

Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap 
To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, 
Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, 
At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand! 

To be so tickled, they would change their state 
And situation with those dancing chips, 
O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, 
Making dead wood more blest than living lips. 

Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, 
Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.
O, quante volte, musica mia, co ti te sona 
el legno fortun che vibra e risponde 
soto i to di deicati, quando co tanta grazia te sona
i armoniosi accordi che confonde 

e me rece, mi invidie i tasti che saltona siolti
a basar el tenero incavo de a to man, 
intant che sti me vari, che batare chel raccolt, 
par lardir dei legni, vizin de ti rossi i se fa.

Par essar cuss ecciti, i fare scanbio de natura 
e de post co i tasti baerini
dove i to di score co dolze andatura 
rendendo un legno mort p contento de vari canterini. 

Dato che i tasti inpertinenti gioisse de sto afar, 
sseghe i to di, e a mi i to vari da basar.
sonetto 129
The expense of spirit in a waste of shame 
Is lust in action; and till action, lust 
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame, 
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, 

Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight, 
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had 
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait 
On purpose laid to make the taker mad; 

Mad in pursuit and in possession so; 
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; 
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; 
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream. 

All this the world well knows; yet none knows well 
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
Un sperpero de spirito intun spreco de vergogna 
la  a voja in atto; e finch a dura, a voja carnal 
la  spergiura, assassina, vionta, degna de a gogna, 
salvrega, estrema, brutal, crude, sleal; 

appena goda e subito disprezza, 
oltre rason desidera e, pena ava, 
oltre rason odia, come esca ingoja, 
messa aposta par mandar mat chi la fa sua: 

furiosa intel desiderio e furiosa intel possesso; 
inte quel che  v, la , e zercar de ver, estrema; 
beatitudine al momento, e dopo, un vero cesso, 
prima un piazer ambo, dopo unillusion che trema. 

El mondo sa ben tut questo, ma nissun pol saver, no,
come vitar el paradiso che mena i meni a sto inferno.
sonetto 130
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; 
Coral is far more red than her lips' red; 
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; 
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. 

I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, 
But no such roses see I in her cheeks; 
And in some perfumes is there more delight 
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. 

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know 
That music hath a far more pleasing sound; 
I grant I never saw a goddess go; 
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: 

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare 
As any she belied with false compare.
I oci de a me dna no li  gnent del sol; 
el coral l  ben p ross del ross de a so boca in festa; 
se a neve la  bianca, e so tette buta sul grisiol, 
se i cavi li  spaghi, spaghi neri cresse so a so testa. 

 vist rose screzie, rose rosse e bianche rose,
ma ste rose no le vede so e so ganasse; 
e in certi profumi  note p deiziose 
che intel ito che da a me dna nasse. 

Me piase sentirla parlar, ma rive a pensar 
che a musica  un sonar che d p piazer; 
mi amete che no  mai vist na da caminar: 
beh, a me dna, intel caminar, a fracona par tera. 

Eppur, dio bon, par mi la  ba tant quanta 
ogni altra fmena che da falsi se decanta.
sonetto 131
Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, 
As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; 
For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart 
Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel. 

Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold 
Thy face hath not the power to make love groan: 
To say they err I dare not be so bold, 
Although I swear it to myself alone. 

And, to be sure that is not false I swear, 
A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face, 
One on another's neck, do witness bear 
Thy black is fairest in my judgment's place. 

In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds, 
And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds.
Te fa a stronza, anca cuss ciapada,
come quei fati stronzi dal orgoglio de esser bi; 
parch te sa che pal me cuor infatu 
ti te s el p splendido e prezioso dei gioii. 

Eppur,  dit certi, dopo ver vard e to pose, 
che el to muso, far sospirar damor, beh, nol pol: 
e dir che i se sbaglia mi no ose
se ben che lo giure tra mi e mi mi sol. 

E par essar sicuro che no  falso quel che giure, 
un mir de sospiri, sol che pensando al to viso, 
un dro chealtro porte a dar testimonianze sicure 
che el nero l  el p bel coeor, a me giudizio. 

In gnent te s nera fora che inte e to azion 
e l  par questo, pense mi, che nasse e insinuazion.
sonetto 132
Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, 
Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain, 
Have put on black and loving mourners be, 
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. 

And truly not the morning sun of heaven 
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, 
Nor that full star that ushers in the even 
Doth half that glory to the sober west, 

As those two mourning eyes become thy face: 
O, let it then as well beseem thy heart 
To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace, 
And suit thy pity like in every part. 

Then will I swear beauty herself is black 
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.
Ame i to oci, e lori, come se i vesse piet de mi, 
savendo che el to cuor me tortura col to sdegno, 
i s vesto a lutto e i pianze greme dolzi, 
vardando co tanta conpassion el me doeor.
 
E par essar sincero, i primi raj del sol 
no fa p be e ganasse grise de laurora, 
e a sta che anunzia a sera 
no a d met del splendor al sobrio tramonto 

de quel che do oci a lutto fa bel el to viso. 
Assa dunque che anca el to cuor el dae segno 
de pianza par mi, dato che el lutto te d grazia, 
e rivestissi a to piet de nero in ogni parte. 

Aeora giurar che a vera beza la  nera, 
e che brute le  quee che manca del to coeor.
sonetto 133
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan 
For that deep wound it gives my friend and me! 
Is't not enough to torture me alone, 
But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be? 

Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken, 
And my next self thou harder hast engross'd: 
Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken; 
A torment thrice threefold thus to be cross'd. 

Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward, 
But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail; 
Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard; 
Thou canst not then use rigor in my gaol: 

And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee, 
Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.
Chel sie dan chel cuor che el me cuor fa sospirar 
pal tajo vert che el ne assa a me amigo e a mi! 
No ghe basta torturarme mi-mi sol
senza far s-ciavo l amigo che caro  de p? 

El m stravi parfin da mi el to ocio desgrazi 
e chealtro mi co p crudelt l  cattur: 
da lu, da mi, e da ti me trove ribandon; 
che tripla agonia sentirse tre volte in crose, l! 

Sra pur el me cuor intea ca del to duro pto, 
ma del cuor de me amigo l  el me cuor garante; 
chiunque mincadena, assa el me cuor a guardia sua 
e no te podar usarghe vionza inte a me preson.
 
Eppur te o far; parch essendo mi ciuso dentro de ti, 
par forza son tuo. e tuo  tut quel che  dentro de mi.
sonetto 134
So, now I have confess'd that he is thine, 
And I myself am mortgaged to thy will, 
Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine 
Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still: 

But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, 
For thou art covetous and he is kind; 
He learn'd but surety-like to write for me 
Under that bond that him as fast doth bind. 

The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take, 
Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use, 
And sue a friend came debtor for my sake; 
So him I lose through my unkind abuse. 

Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me: 
He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.
Cuss, adess che  confess che lu l  tuo 
e che m ipotec da mi-mi-sol ae to voje, 
rinunce a ogni diritto se ti, altro mi, 
te vor restituirme ancora al me conforto. 

Ma no te o far, n lu vor mancar l inpegno, 
parch ti te s tegnosa e lu l  cuor che no mente; 
sol a me favor lu l  sotoscritt 
chel vincoeo che dess liga anca lu strettamente. 

Tut el prezo de a to beza ti te vol, 
strozina che te presta sol che a intaresse, 
e te cita un amigo che el s inpegn par mi: 
cuss lo perde par sto assurdo intrigo. 

Mi l pers; ti te s parona de tuti do, 
lu paga tut, e mi gnancora no son libero.
sonetto 135
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will,' 
And 'Will' to boot, and 'Will' in overplus; 
More than enough am I that vex thee still, 
To thy sweet will making addition thus. 

Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious, 
Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine? 
Shall will in others seem right gracious, 
And in my will no fair acceptance shine? 

The sea all water, yet receives rain still 
And in abundance addeth to his store; 
So thou, being rich in 'Will,' add to thy 'Will' 
One will of mine, to make thy large 'Will' more. 

Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill; 
Think all but one, and me in that one 'Will.'
Ogni dna  quel che a vol, ti t el to Vui 
e un Vui ancora, e un Vui anca de p: 
forse fora misura son mi che te ronpe senpre, 
par zontarme cuss ae to be voje. 

Vutu ti, ti che el to vui l  cuss ingrando, 
far s che na volta el me vui se scance intel tuo? 
Dovar senbrar el vui de chealtri p grado 
e sol el me vui no brir del consenso tuo?
 
El mar colmo de acqua riceve ancora piova 
e, s-gionf, l aumenta e so risorse: 
cuss ti, piena de Vui, zonta al to Vui 
un me vui, par far p grando el z grando Vui tuo! 

No sta far che un no stronzo cope i to pretendenti: 
pnsane tuti in uno, e che l unico Vui sie mi.
sonetto 136
If thy soul cheque thee that I come so near, 
Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy 'Will,' 
And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there; 
Thus far for love my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. 

'Will' will fulfil the treasure of thy love, 
Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. 
In things of great receipt with ease we prove 
Among a number one is reckon'd none: 

Then in the number let me pass untold, 
Though in thy stores' account I one must be; 
For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold 
That nothing me, a something sweet to thee: 

Make but my name thy love, and love that still, 
And then thou lovest me, for my name is 'Will.'
Se lanema te dise che me son mess massa da vizin
giura a lnema tua orba che mi iere el to Vui 
e lnema tua ben sa che el vui, l, l  el so postesin: 
cuss, par amor, meti a me supplica fra i pensieri tui. 

Vui conpletar a richeza del to amor 
e appagar ogni deso, e el mio specialmente. 
In posti de gran ritrovo se sa par esperienza 
che uno no conta gnent in mezo a tanta zente:
 
Eora assa che, tra tanti, mi passe inosserv 
seben fae cressa de uno el conto del to possesso; 
stmame pur un gnent, purch te piase pensar
sta me nullit come calcossa che te fa sesso. 

Fa' del me nome el to amor e meo par tuti i giorni tui, 
cos te me amar, parch el me nome l  Vui.
sonetto 137
Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes, 
That they behold, and see not what they see? 
They know what beauty is, see where it lies, 
Yet what the best is take the worst to be. 

If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks 
Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride, 
Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks, 
Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied? 

Why should my heart think that a several plot 
Which my heart knows the wide world's common place? 
Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not, 
To put fair truth upon so foul a face? 

In things right true my heart and eyes have erred, 
And to this false plague are they now transferr'd.
Mat e orbo amor, ai me oci ghe fatu cossa,
che i varda e no i vede quel che  in mezo? 
Lori conosse a beza, i vede chi la indossa, 
epur i ciapa pa ecelso quel che  pzo. 

Se oci coroti da sguardi massa volpini 
li  ancori nea baia dove ogni on fa a so nodada, 
parch de a falsit dei oci t fat uncini 
che a guida del me cuor tien ligada? 

Parch el me cuor dovare considerar privato 
el luogo che ben sa comun al mondo intiero? 
O i me oci, che vede questo, dir che no  vero
par dar luce sincera a na tant inpura ziera? 

I me oci e el me cuor li  fals e robe p vere, 
e dess i s pers ne linfamia de quee busiere.
sonetto 138
When my love swears that she is made of truth 
I do believe her, though I know she lies, 
That she might think me some untutor'd youth, 
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. 

Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, 
Although she knows my days are past the best, 
Simply I credit her false speaking tongue: 
On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd. 

But wherefore says she not she is unjust? 
And wherefore say not I that I am old? 
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust, 
And age in love loves not to have years told: 

Therefore I lie with her and she with me, 
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.
Co el me amor me giura chel so amor l  tut mio 
mi ghe crede, anca se so che a mente, 
cuss che a posse pensarme un tosat indro 
che del mondo ignora l'arte de mentir sotilmente. 

Gas che a me pense in primavera, 
anca se a sa che el me mejo l  tramont, 
co a facia da pomi scolte a so lengua busiera, 
e cuss da entranbi vien tasest a pura verit. 

Ma parch no a me dise de ver naltra cucia? 
E parch anca mi no ghe dise che son vecio? 
No, el p bel bito del amor l  mostrar fiducia, 
e in amor let non vol vardarse al specio. 

Par questo mi son busier co a e a co mi, 
e sbagliando, grazie ae buse, se lunsinghen de p.
sonetto 139
O, call not me to left the wrong 
That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; 
Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue; 
Use power with power and slay me not by art.
 
Tell me thou lovest elsewhere, but in my sight, 
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside: 
What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy might 
Is more than my o'er-press'd defense can bide?
 
Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows 
Her pretty looks have been mine enemies, 
And therefore from my face she turns my foes, 
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:
 
Yet do not so; but since I am near slain, 
Kill me outright with looks and rid my pain.
O, no sta domadarme de giustificar i pastroci 
che a to cativeria inpone al me cuor; 
fersseme co a to lengua ma no coi to oci; 
arma a to lealt e no coparme co intento traditor. 

Dime pur che te ama altri, ma quando che te si co mi, 
cuor mio, meghea de girarte a vardar: 
parch te fa a stronza, quando quel che te pol ti 
l  p de quel che a me difesa straca pol soportar? 

Podare scusarte cuss: la sa ben a me dona 
che e so be ocie le  nemighe mie, 
e perci a cava dal me viso ocie che no perdona 
che va colpir altrove co e so frece apunte: 

ma no sta farlo: son prossimo a fine 
cpame de ocie e stua e me manfrine.
sonetto 140
Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press 
My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain; 
Lest sorrow lend me words and words express 
The manner of my pity-wanting pain. 

If I might teach thee wit, better it were, 
Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so; 
As testy sick men, when their deaths be near, 
No news but health from their physicians know; 

For if I should despair, I should grow mad, 
And in my madness might speak ill of thee: 
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad, 
Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be, 

That I may not be so, nor thou belied, 
Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.
Sii savia quant che te s stronza, no sta urtar 
a me pazienza muta col to continuo sdegno 
ch el doeor no me preste pare par spiegar 
el parch de a me pena, amara oltre el segno. 

Se posse insegnarte a viva, sare mejo sort,
se no te me ama, che te me disesse che la  cuss, amor; 
come ai maei che trema, ormai prossimi a mort, 
ghe vien dit sol pare de speranza dal dotor. 

Parch se disperesse, deventare mat 
e inte a me follia pore dir mal de ti; 
sto mondo devi l  cress cuss malfat 
che i mati ciacoeoni trova rece mate che ghe dise s. 

Parch de mi no sie cuss, n ti caeuniada, 
ferma i to oci, pur sel to cuor  ciap naltra strada.
sonetto 141
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, 
For they in thee a thousand errors note; 
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, 
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote; 

Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted, 
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, 
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited 
To any sensual feast with thee alone: 

But my five wits nor my five senses can 
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, 
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man, 
Thy proud hearts slave and vassal wretch to be: 

Only my plague thus far I count my gain, 
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.
A dir el vero, no te ame coi me oci,
che in ti i vede uninfinit de erori 
ma el me cuor ama quel che lori sdegna 
e a dispet de quel chi vede l  contento dei so ardori;
 
e me rece no le  contente de sentir a to vose, 
n el me sentimento l  propenso al tachignar, 
n el gusto n l olfato desidera essar inviti 
a un banchet erotico par ti soltant: 

ma i me zinque spiriti o i me zinque sensi 
no pol dissuada, dal servirte, un cuor insemeno 
che assa senza contreo sta parvenza de on 
s-ciava e serva del to cuor insuperbo: 

ma tant mi considere un privilegio sta me piaga 
ch quea che me fa pecar, de doeor me inbriaga.
sonetto 142
Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate, 
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving: 
O, but with mine compare thou thine own state, 
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving; 

Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine, 
That have profaned their scarlet ornaments 
And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine, 
Robb'd others' beds' revenues of their rents. 

Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lovest those 
Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee: 
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows 
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be. 

If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, 
By self-example mayst thou be denied!
Amor l  el me pec, e a to mejo virt l odio:
odio del me pec, fond su amor colpvoe. 
Oh, ma confronta col mio el to stato
e te scoprir che nol merita rimprovero;

o, se lo merita, no dai vari tui
che  profan el ross che li adorna
e giur falso amor, come spess i mii,
robando da lti altrui i so legittimi piazeri.

Sia me diritto amarte, come ti te ama quei
che i to oci vol quando i mii te stufa:
smena piet intel to cuor, che cressendo
posse meritar de essar conpata.

Se te va in zerca de ver quel che t rifiut
dal to stesso esempio el pore essarte neg.
sonetto 143
Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch 
One of her feather'd creatures broke away, 
Sets down her babe and makes an swift dispatch 
In pursuit of the thing she would have stay, 

Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, 
Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent 
To follow that which flies before her face, 
Not prizing her poor infant's discontent; 

So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee, 
Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind; 
But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, 
And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind: 

So will I pray that thou mayst have thy 'Will,' 
If thou turn back, and my loud crying still.
Come na brava massera core par ciapar 
quea dee gane che la  scanpada via, 
mete-zo el bocia e fa na spedizion rapida 
al inseguimento de a roba che vore ferma; 

mentre el putin trascur ghe core dro 
e pianze par rivar da a, tuta intenta intel
crerghe drio a quea che ghe scanpa davanti ai oci, 
ignorando l afano del so poro tosatel:
 
cuss ti te rincore quel che scanpa da ti, 
mentre mi, to bocia, te insegue da lontan; 
ma se te vanta quel che te spera, torna da mi 
e fame un fi da mama, bsame, dame na bonaman: 

pregar che te posse ver el to Vui
se da mi te torna e te calma i me lamenti.
sonetto 144
Two loves I have of comfort and despair, 
Which like two spirits do suggest me still: 
The better angel is a man right fair, 
The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. 

To win me soon to hell, my female evil 
Tempteth my better angel from my side, 
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, 
Wooing his purity with her foul pride. 

And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend 
Suspect I may, but not directly tell; 
But being both from me, both to each friend, 
I guess one angel in another's hell: 

Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, 
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
Do amori  mi, conforto e perdizion, 
che come do spiriti me persguita senpre: 
l ngeo bon l  un n gran figon, 
el spirito malvagio la  na femena nera.
 
Par portarme a danazion, a me cnchera de fmena, 
tenta l ngeo bon a stacarse dal me fianco 
e a vore pervertir el santo mio intun demonio, 
insidiando a so purezza col so porzel incanto. 

E che l ngeo mio se sie converto in demonio 
posse sol che sospetarlo, senza poderlo dir; 
ma entranbi da mi lontani, e un de chealtra amigo, 
pense l ngeo mio nel inferno de chealtra.
 
No podar mai saverlo, ma intel dubio reste e son, 
finch l ngeo cativo no var mand via el bon.
sonetto 145
Those lips that Love's own hand did make 
Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate' 
To me that languish'd for her sake; 
But when she saw my woeful state, 

Straight in her heart did mercy come, 
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet 
Was used in giving gentle doom, 
And taught it thus anew to greet: 

'I hate' she alter'd with an end, 
That follow'd it as gentle day 
Doth follow night, who like a fiend 
From heaven to hell is flown away; 

'I hate' from hate away she threw, 
And saved my life, saying 'not you.'
I vari che Amor  cre co e so man 
bisbiglia na vose che disa Mi odie 
a mi, che jere pers pal so amor: 
ma quando a  avverto a me pena, 

suto intel so cuor  vegn zo a piet 
a rimproverar a lengua che senpre dolze 
jera abituada a esprimerse ciondome in giro; 
e a gh insegn a parlarme in altro modo: 

 corett el Mi odie co un fine 
che el gh ndat dro come un d seren
ghe va drio a not che, cof un demonio, 
dal ciel ceste vien sprofonda intel inferno.
 
E pare Mi odie a le  prive de ogni odio 
e a m salv a vita disndome no a ti.
sonetto 146
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, 
[ ] these rebel powers that thee array; 
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, 
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? 

Why so large cost, having so short a lease, 
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? 
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, 
Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end? 

Then soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, 
And let that pine to aggravate thy store; 
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; 
Within be fed, without be rich no more: 

So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, 
And Death once dead, there's no more dying then.
Pora nema, centro de a me pecaminosa tera 
(s-ciava de) ste voje ardenti che te cuerze via, 
parch drento te te strude e te soporta miseria nera
par decorar e to pareti de costosa alegria? 

Parch, pa un afito cuss curt, tanti bssi 
par sta efmera dimora te spende? 
Dovar forse i vermi, eredi de tanti eccessi, 
divorar ogni richezza? o l che el to corpo inzende? 

nema, sfruta a rovina del to servidor 
e assa che l patisse par aumentar a to roba bona;
conpra eternit divine vendendo ore de scorie, 
nutrssete de spirito, senza far a sprotona, 

cuss te te nutrir de a Mort, che a se nutre de meni,
e, morta a Mort, del morir no ghe sar p i fenomeni.
sonetto 147
My love is as a fever, longing still 
For that which longer nurseth the disease, 
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, 
The uncertain sickly appetite to please. 

My reason, the physician to my love, 
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, 
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve 
Desire is death, which physic did except. 

Past cure I am, now reason is past care, 
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; 
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are, 
At random from the truth vainly express'd; 

For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright, 
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
L  come na freve l amor mio, che desidera ancora 
quel che p in longo nutre a maeatia; 
lu se incocona de quel che mantien el mal par sora
pur de apagar a morbosa fantasia. 

El me zervel, dotor del me amor, 
inrabi ch e so prescrizion poc le conta,
m ass, e desper adess me acorze 
che el desiderio l  a mort, e el dotor lo rifiuta. 

Dess  capo a cura, e son a cura del pass, 
e un mat fora de testa in agitazion senpre p granda; 
i me pensieri e i me discorsi li  come dun mae, 
che frnetica a caso, e de qua e de  i sbanda: 

parch te  giur pura e  cred bel tut el to fagot, 
ti che te s nera come l inferno, fosca come a not.
sonetto 148
O me, what eyes hath Love put in my head, 
Which have no correspondence with true sight! 
Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled, 
That censures falsely what they see aright? 

If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, 
What means the world to say it is not so? 
If it be not, then love doth well denote 
Love's eye is not so true as all men's 'No.' 

How can it? O, how can Love's eye be true, 
That is so vex'd with watching and with tears? 
No marvel then, though I mistake my view; 
The sun itself sees not till heaven clears. 

O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind, 
Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.
Poro mi, che oci meo mess in front Amor 
par gnent boni de dar na bona vista!
O se i lo , dova fina a me mente 
che giudica sbaj quel che lori vede giust? 

Se  bel quel che intriga el me ocio stort, 
cossa intende el mondo col dir che no l  vero? 
Se no la  cuss, aeora Amor segna forte 
che el so ocio no l  sincero come el No de tuti. 

Come poro? Come pol l ocio damor essar sincero 
se l  cuss incaiv da e veglie e dae greme? 
Nissuna maraveja eora se a me vista sbaglia; 
gnanca el sol vede se el ciel no l  ciaro. 

O furbo Amor, ti te me orba co e greme 
par paura che i me oci scopre el to ingano.
sonetto 149
Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not, 
When I against myself with thee partake? 
Do I not think on thee, when I forgot 
Am of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake? 

Who hateth thee that I do call my friend? 
On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon? 
Nay, if thou lour'st on me, do I not spend 
Revenge upon myself with present moan? 

What merit do I in myself respect, 
That is so proud thy service to despise, 
When all my best doth worship thy defect, 
Commanded by the motion of thine eyes? 

But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind; 
Those that can see thou lovest, and I am blind.
Ma stronza, come fatu a dir che no te ame, 
se senpre a me sfavor ciape e to parti? 
No pense forse a ti, quando me desmnteghe
parfin de mi, cncara, par causa tua?
 
Ciame forse amigo chi te odia 
o forse usinghe chi te varda co disdegno? 
E se te me varda par stort, no volte forse 
verso de mi a vendeta e me mete suto a pianza? 

Che merito pore trovar in mi 
tant superbo da disdegnar de servirte, 
quando el mejo de mi adora i to difeti, 
domin dal minimo mot dei to oci? 

Ma odia pur, amor,  capo el to pensier; 
ti te ama chi che pol vdarte, e mi son orbo.
sonetto 150
O, from what power hast thou this powerful might 
With insufficiency my heart to sway? 
To make me give the lie to my true sight, 
And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? 

Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, 
That in the very refuse of thy deeds 
There is such strength and warrantize of skill 
That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds? 

Who taught thee how to make me love thee more 
The more I hear and see just cause of hate? 
O, though I love what others do abhor, 
With others thou shouldst not abhor my state: 

If thy unworthiness raised love in me, 
More worthy I to be beloved of thee.
Da che forza cvitu sta to forza potente 
de remissiar el me cuor co e to miserie? 
Da farme creda falso quel che vede veramente, 
e giurar che no la  a luce a illuminar el d? 

Da dove atu sto dono de indorar el mal 
che intel rifiuto dee to pezo azion 
tanta la  a potenza e tanta a bravura 
che in mente mia el to pezo sul ben la fa da paron?

Chi t insegn a far s che mi te ame tant de p 
quant p sente e vede giuste rason
de odio? Ma se ame quel che chealtri detesta, 
co chealtri no sta derida sta me condizion. 

Se tanta indegnit  risvej l amor in mi, 
tant p son degno de essar riam da ti.
sonetto 151
Love is too young to know what conscience is; 
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love? 
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, 
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove: 

For, thou betraying me, I do betray 
My nobler part to my gross body's treason; 
My soul doth tell my body that he may 
Triumph in love; flesh stays no father reason; 

But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee 
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, 
He is contented thy poor drudge to be, 
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. 

No want of conscience hold it that I call 
Her 'love' for whose dear love I rise and fall.
Amor l  massa zvane par capir cossa che sie coscienza 
epur chi non sa che a coscienza nasse da lamor? 
Quindi, cara inbrojona, no sta acusarme massa 
nel dubio che mi te prove che  colpa dei me erori. 

Parch se ti te mingana, anca mi abandone
el me nbie spirito al ingano volgar dei sensi; 
a me nema dise al me corpo che la  bona 
de trionfar in amor: a carne no sinte altre rason, 

e, levandose al to nome, la indica sol che ti 
come so trofeo. Fiera de sto successo, 
el corpo sincontenta de essar el to poro s-ciavet, 
forte ae to voje, al to fianco sotomess. 

No a manca de coscienza che mi la ciame 
"amor", parch pal so amor mi me alze e casche.
sonetto 152
In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn, 
But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing, 
In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn, 
In vowing new hate after new love bearing. 

But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee, 
When I break twenty? I am perjured most; 
For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee 
And all my honest faith in thee is lost, 

For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness, 
Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy, 
And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness, 
Or made them swear against the thing they see; 

For I have sworn thee fair; more perjured I, 
To swear against the truth so foul a lie!
Ti te sa che son spergiuro co te ame, 
ma ti te o s do volte co te me giura amor: 
t vioe el let da sposa e trado el novo legame, 
giurando novo odio par n altro amor. 

Ma parch de do voti infranti dovare acusarte 
quando mi ghe ne rompe vinti? Mi son p spergiuro, 
parch i me voti li  giuramenti par maltratarte 
e tuta a me onest, in ti a s pers ormai, sicuro. 

 fat grandi giuramenti so a to p gran bont, 
giuramenti sul to amor, su a to onest e a to fede
e, par darte luce,  consegn i me oci a cecit 
opur li  costreti a giurar contro quel che i vede: 

parch te  giur ba: ma son mi p carogna 
par giurar contro el vero sta incredbie menzogna!
sonetto 153
Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep: 
A maid of Dian's this advantage found, 
And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep 
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground; 

Which borrow'd from this holy fire of Love 
A dateless lively heat, still to endure, 
And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove 
Against strange maladies a sovereign cure. 

But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new-fired, 
The boy for trial needs would touch my breast; 
I, sick withal, the help of bath desired, 
And thither hied, a sad distemper'd guest, 

But found no cure: the bath for my help lies 
Where Cupid got new fire--my mistress' eyes.
Cupido mete zo a so torcia e sindormenza: 
na ninfa de Diana no sta ai zioghi 
e svelta a imerge a fiama che i cuori fa de bronza 
inte na freda fontana de quei lioghi: 

da chel sacro fogo damor a fonte trova 
un vivo eterno caeor, che no finisse, 
e deventa un bagno caldo che ancora i prova 
essar rimedio sovrano pae maeate che stranisse. 

Ma riaccesa chea torcia al ocio de a me dona, 
el bocia par provarla l  voest tocarme el pto: 
Mi, soferente, inte chel bagno  zerc acqua bona
e me son but, distrut e par gnente chieto. 

Ma no  trov rimedio: el bagno che pol jutarme 
l  l ocio de a dna dove Cupido l  torn a infiamarme.
sonetto 154
The little Love-god lying once asleep 
Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, 
Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep 
Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand 

The fairest votary took up that fire 
Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd; 
And so the general of hot desire 
Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd. 

This brand she quenched in a cool well by, 
Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual, 
Growing a bath and healthful remedy 
For men diseased; but I, my mistress' thrall, 

Came there for cure, and this by that I prove, 
Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.
Un d che l Amorin indormenz 
el vea puz in parte a torcia che i cuori infiama, 
un grun de ninfe vote a castit
e ghe vien darent baeando; co vergne man 

a p ba de lore ciol-su el fogo
che tante legion de cuori puri va scald; 
e cuss el general del desiderio scaldaroso 
intant chel dorme da na vergine vien disarm, 

a a ghe stua a torcia inte na fonte freda l vizina 
che dal fogo dAmor ardor perpetuo incantona, 
deventando un bagno de sana medesna 
par meni maei; ma mi, s-ciavo de a me dna 

ndat l par guarir, sol che questo posse provar: 
el fogo d'Amor scalda lacqua, lacqua l Amor no sa jazar.

Edizioni del Cubo