Thursday 5 May 2016

Sonnet 69 d'Shakespeare

Sonnet 69
Quand l'yi du monde t'èrgarde, tu l'êgalue,
et nou n'înmaginne rein pouor t'amender.
Les langues des âmes laminnent toutes chu même tru:
l'anmîn auve l'ennemîn - laminneurs d'ité.
Ainchîn tan d'houors est louangi un amas,
mais ches mêmes langues, dêclientchies à t'louangi,
lus r'touônnent du mauvais bord pouor en faithe fouah,
et vaient acouo pus avant qu'un co dg'yi.
Et pouor la bieauté dé t'n esprit, i' mithent
et la m'suthent à bidgesse sélon t's affits,
épis i' r'bourpent et r'nonchent qué nou t'admithe:
tan touffet d'flieurs est êtouffé d'ortchies.
Tén esprit înfecte tan d'houors mangnifique;
ch'est qu'souos tes jaues flieuthies, tes ortchies piquent.


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 soil is this, that thou dost common grow.

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