Friday, April 22, 2011

One of the World's Most Beautiful Poems

Shakespeare Sonnet #71

No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than 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.


Translation: Only mourn for me as long as you can hear the bells tell the world that I'm dead and gone. If you read this again, don't remember the hand that wrote it because I love you so much I don't want you to think of me as I am (dead and gone) and become sad. When you read this, let your love die with me because I'd rather the world not mock you for continuing to mourn after me for so long. Let go...

No comments:

Post a Comment