Saturday, 7 July 2018

…lover, not so much

Yet another Shakespeare sonnet today, titled My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun, to contrast the beautiful partner of the last post. I translated it to Italian on Sep 27 and 29 2009. Let's see!

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 damaskt, red and white,
But no such roses see I on her cheeks;
And in some perfume there is more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks;

I love to hear her speak, and yet 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.
Son tutto tranne ’l sole gl’occhi suoi;
Di sue labbra più rossi i corallini;
Se bianca è neve, bigi i seni suoi;
Capei son crini? In testa ha neri crini;

Le bianche e rosse damascate rose
C’ho visto, di sue guance sono fuore;
E ne’ profumi v’è maggiore dose
D’ delizia che ’n respir ch’ea manda fuore.

La voce sua adoro, eppur so bene
Che musica s’è molto più piacente;
Non ho mai visto come dea sen vene:
Calca la terra mia donna venente;

Ma ’l mi’ amor raro è quanto, in mi’ opinione,
Colei ch’inganna falso paragone.

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