English 版 (精华区)
作 家: oli (西西 ) on board 'English'
题 目: Shakespeare--Sonnet XVII
来 源: 哈尔滨紫丁香站
日 期: Sat Aug 16 20:06:38 1997
出 处: bbs@bbs.orange.sjtu.edu.cn
发信人: freeboy (自由男孩儿), 信区: English
标 题: Sonnet XVII
发信站: 饮水思源站 (Fri Jul 25 20:19:20 1997) , 转信
Sonnet XVII
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.
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* *
* 生命诚可贵,爱情价更高. *
* 若为自由故,两者皆可抛. *
* *
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