Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,

 That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more.

It is a tale told by an idiot

full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

 

La vita non è che un'ombra che cammina,

Un attorucolo che si agita e pavoneggia sulla scena la sua oretta,

E poi di lui non si sa più nulla.

E' una storia narrata da un idiota,

Piena di rumore e furore,

Che non significa niente

Slides tradotte in italiano dalle originali di azquotes.com

To be, or not to be: that is the question:

Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

 
 

Essere, o non essere: questo è il problema:

Se sia più nobile nella mente soffrire

I sassi e dardi d’una crudele sorte,

O tendere le braccia contro un mare d’insidie,

 

 

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ANT OF VENICE All the world ‘s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players

They have their exits and their entrances

And one man in his time plays many parts

 
 

Tutto il mondo é un palcoscenico,

E tutti gli uomini e donne sono solo degli attori

Hanno le loro uscite e le loro entrate

E un uomo nel suo tempo recita molte parti

 

 

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If you prick us, do we not bleed?

If you tickle us, do we not laugh?

If you poison us, do we not die?

And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

 
 

Se ci pungete forse noi non sanguiniamo?

Se ci fate il solletico non ridiamo?

E se ci avvelenate non muoriamo?

E se ci fate un torto non devremo forse vendicarci?

 

 

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought

 
 
 

Così la coscienza ci rende tutti codardi,

E così il colore naturale della risolutezza

  e' reso malsano dalla pallida cera del pensiero

 

  Slides tradotte in italiano dalle originali di brainyquote.com

 

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

Quando considero che qualsiasi cosa che cresce,

Rimane perfetta solo per un istante,

Che questo immenso palcoscenico offre solo illusioni,

Su cui le stelle esercitano la loro segreta influenza

 

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscover’d country from whose bourn

No traveller returns.

Brontolare e sudare sotto una vita affannosa,

Se quel timore di qualcosa dopo la morte,

Regione sconosciuta, dai cui confini

Non esiste viaggiatore che torni indietro.

 

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause: there’s the respect

That makes calamity of so long life

Dormire: forse sognare: ahi, qui sta il problema;

Perchè in questo sonno di morte che sogni possono venire!

Quando abbandoniamo questo groviglio mortale,

Ci ferma questo pensiero

E rende così lunga e tragica la nostra vita

 

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

Quando vedo che gli uomini sono al pari delle piante,

Se paragonati a questa immensita'

E non appena si vantano della loro giovinezza questa e' gia' sfiorita,

E non rimane che il ricordo della vigoria giovanile

 

Give sorrow words;

the grief that does not speak

knits up the o-er wrought heart

and bids it break

Dai parole al dolore;

il dolore che non parla,

sussurra al cuore sovraccarico

e gli ordina di spezzarsi

 

The beauty of the world!

What a piece of work is a man!

The paragon of animals! 

And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?”

La bellezza del mondo,

E che capovavoro è l' uomo,

Paragonato agli animali.

E tuttavia  cos'è questa quintessenza di polvere?

 

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.

Chi mai crederebbe in futuro ai miei versi

Se fossero ricolmi dei tuoi eccelsi pregi?

Eppure, lo sa il cielo, non sono che una tomba

Che la tua vita cela, e solo meta' dei tuoi pregi descrive.

 

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.

Potessi io ritrarre la bellezza dei tuoi occhi

E in nuovi versi enumerare le tue grazie,

In futuro si direbbe: "Sono menzogne di poeta,

Mai tali celesti tratti toccarono volti umani".

 

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Ma la tua eterna estate non sfiorirà,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;

Né perderai possesso della tua bellezza;

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

Né morte si vanterà di coprirti con la sua ombra,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;

Poiché tu cresci nel tempo in versi eterni

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

Finché uomini respireranno e occhi vedranno,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee

Vivranno questi miei versi, e daranno vita a te

.

 

Some are born great,

Some achieve greatness,

And some have greatness thrust upon them

Alcuni nascono già col potere,

Alcuni il potere lo conquistano,

Altri lo subiscono.

 

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

E i miei scritti, ingialliti dal passare del tempo,

Saranno dileggiati come farneticare di rimbambito,

E le meritate lodi come eccessi di fantasia,

Rime esagerate di vecchia cantilena.

 

Love's not Time's fool,

Though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come

Amore non è soggetto al Tempo,

pur se rosee labbra e gote,

Dovran cadere sotto la sua curva lama

 

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die,

 L ike fire and powder which,

As they kiss, consume

Queste violente delizie hanno fini violenti

E nel loro trionfo muoiono,

Come il fuoco e la polvere che,

Come baciano, consumano

 

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.

Amore non muta in poche ore o settimane,

Ma impavido resiste al giorno estremo del giudizio.

Se sarà provato che non è vero,

Io non ho mai scritto, e nessuno ha mai amato.

 

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

Dovrei paragonarti a un giorno d’estate?

Tu sei ben più raggiante e mite:

Venti furiosi scuotono le tenere gemme di maggio

E il corso dell’estate ha vita troppo breve

 

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

Non sia mai ch'io ponga impedimenti

All'unione di anime fedeli; Amore non è Amore

Se cambia quando scopre un mutamento,

O tende a svanire quando l'altro s'allontana.

 

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. 

Ammetto di non aver mai visto camminare una dea,

 La mia donna camminando calca la terra.

Eppure io ritengo che la mia amata sia straordinaria

Come ogni altra donna  cantata con falsi e esagerati paragoni.

 

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.

Mi torna in mente la tua traboccante gioventu',

In cui l'inesorabile distruzione del tempo si adopera

Per trasformare il tuo giorno di oggi nella notte di domani.

E dichiarando guerra al tempo,per amore vostro,

Quello che egli ti toglie, io te lo restituisco.

 

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this

And this gives life to thee.

Finche' uomini respirano e occhi vedono,

Vivranno questi miei versi,

E daranno vita a te.

 

So are you to my thoughts as food to life,

Or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground;

And for the peace of you I hold such strife,

As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found.

Tu sei per i miei pensieri come il cibo per la vita,

O come per la terra le dolci piogge di primavera,

E per amor tuo sostengo una lotta

Come l'avaro con le sue ricchezze.

 

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.

E come la lodola, al romper del giorno, si innalza

Dalla terra cupa, lancio inni alle soglie del cielo:

Poiché il ricordo del dolce tuo amore porta con sè tali ricchezze,

Io non vorrei scambiarle con un regno.

 

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.

Ere you were born waeauty's summer dead

Qualche volta deliziato della tu vista,

E poco dopo affamato di un tuo sguardo;

Non possedendo ne cercando altra gioia

Che quella che tu dai o che da te io spero.

E cosi', giorno dopo giorno, languisco e sono sazio,

Di tutto disponendo, e tutto desiderando.

 

Mine eye hath play'd the painter

And hath stell'd Thy beauty's form

In table of my heart

Il mio occhio s'e' fatto pittore

Ed ha tracciato L'immagine tua bella

Sul quadro del mio cuore

 

O serpent heart,

Hid with a flowering face!

Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?

O cuore di serpente,

In un corpo simile a un fiore!

Quale drago abitò un antro così bello?

 

Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art;

They draw but what they see,

Know not the heart.

Tuttavia all'arte dell'occhio manca la miglior grazia:

Ritrae quello che vede,

Ma non conosce il cuore

 

All days are nights to see

Till I see thee, and nights bright days

When dreams do show thee me.

Tutti i giorni sono notti a vedersi,

Finche' non vedo te, e le notti giorni luminosi,

Quando i sogni si mostrano a me.

 

We cannot all be masters,

nor all masters

Cannot be truly follow’d

Non possiamo essere tutti padroni,

nè tutti i padroni

si possono servire con fedeltà .

 

When most I wink,

Then do mine eyes best see,

For all the day they view things unrespected

Quanto piu' chiudo gli occhi,

Allora meglio vedono,

Perche' per tutto il giorno guardano cose indegne di nota

 

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.

Vedi ora come gli occhi si aiutino a vicenda:

I miei hanno tracciato la tua figura

E i tuoi son finestre al mio petto,

Da cui il sole gode a penetrare

E ad ammirare te.

 

Dove-feathered raven!

Wolvish-ravening lamb!

Despised substance of divinest show!

Just opposite to what thou justly seemst;

A damned saint, an honourable villain!

Corvo con ali di colomba,

Agnello famelico come un lupo!

Lurida materia dalla divina apparenza!

Perfetto contrario di quello che sembravi!

Santo dannato, nobile farabutto!

 

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.

E come l'allodola all'alba

In volo gioiosa si alza dalla cupa terra,

Canto inni all'ingresso del paradiso:

Ed il ricordo del tuo amore mi porta una tal felicita',

Che non cambierei la mia condizione con quella di un re.

 

 

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;
Ee you were born was beauty's summer dead

Ah, come un indice di meridiana trascorre impercettibile belta': 

Sempre immota a me sembra la tua forma, 

Ma e' mobile, e puo' l'occhio ingannare. 

Future eta', prima che foste nate, 

Era gia' morta di belta' l'estate.

 

You are the lord of duty

I am hitherto your daughter: but here’s my husband;

And so much duty as my mother show’d

To you, preferring you before her father,

So much I challenge that I may profess

Due to the Moor My lord

Voi siete il mio signore,

a cui devo obbedienza perchè sono vostra figlia.

Ma qui c’è anche mio marito,

e io credo di dovere al Moro, mio signore,

la stessa obbedienza che mia madre rese a voi,

preferendovi a suo padre.

 

I here do give thee that with all my heart

Whic, but thou hast already, with all my heart

I would keep from thee. For your sake, jewel,

I am glad at soul I have no other child;

For thy escape would teach me tyranny,

To hang clogs on them. I have done, my lord

Io ti do ora con tutto il cuore ciò che,

se tu non l’avessi già preso,

con tutto il cuore ti avrei negato.

Sono felice, cara, di non avere altri figli,

perchè la tua fuga m’insegnerebbe a essere tiranno

e a metterli in catene

 

When remedies are past, the griefs are ended

By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.

To mourn a mischief that is past and gone

Is the next way to draw new mischief on

Quando non c’è più rimedio è inutile addolorarsi,

perchè si vede ormai il peggio che prima era attaccato alla speranza.

Piangere sopra un male passato

è il mezzo più sicuro per attirarsi nuovi mali

 

The robb’d that smiles

steals something from the thief

He robs himself

hat spends a bootless grief

Il derubato che sorride,

ruba qualcosa al ladro,

ma chi piange per un dolore vano,

ruba qualcosa a se stesso

 

These sentences, to sugar, or to gall,

Being strong on both sides, are equivocal:

But words are words; I never yet did hear

That the bruis’d heart

was pierced through the ear

Queste sentenze, capaci ugualmente con la loro forza

di amareggiare o di addolcire l’animo, sono sempre ambigue.

Ma le parole sono parole e io non ho ancora sentito dire

che un cuore addolorato

possa ricevere conforto dalle sole parole

 

Yet opinion,

a sovereign mistress of effects…

Tuttavia l’opinione pubblica

è arbitra assoluta d’ogni volontà

 

It is silliness to live

when to live is torment;

and then have we a prescription to die

when death is our physician

E’ stupido vivere

quando la vita è un tormento.

E quando la morte è il nostro medico,

allora abbiamo una ricetta sicura per morire

 

Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors,

Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens,

Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,

Players in your house wifery, and housewives in your beds

Eh sì, voi donne quando siete per la strada sembrate dei dipinti,

ma siete campane nei salotti, gatte selvatiche in cucina,

sante quando offendete, diavoli se vi offendono;

prendete per gioco i lavori di casa e vi affaticate soltanto a letto

 

If it were now to die
‘Twere now to be most happy,

For I fear my soul hath her content so absolute

That not another comfort like to this

Succeeds in unknown fate

Se ora dovessimo morire,

questo sarebbe il momento più desiderabile.

Temo che il mio amore abbia raggiunto la gioia suprema,

e che mai più il destino

potrà dargliene un’altra uguale

 

Reputation in an idle and most false imposition;

oft got without merit,

and lost without deserving

L’onore è una convenzione falsa e priva di consistenza,

che spesso si ottiene senza merito

e si perde senza colpa

 

 O thou invisible spirit of wine!

if thou hast no name to be known by,

let us call thee devil!

O invisibile spirito del vino,

se non hai un nome tuo,

lasciati chiamare demonio!

 

Divinity of hell!

When devils will the blackest sins put on,

They do suggest at fist with heavenly shows

Logica dell’inferno!

Quando i diavoli vogliono spingere qualcuno a commettere i più neri peccati,

li rivestono all'inizio  di apparenze celesti,

 

How poor are they

that have not patience!

 Chi non ha pazienza

non ottiene niente

 

Fot thy solicitor shall rater die
Than give thy cause away

Il vosto avvocato preferirà morire

piuttosto che rinunciare a difendere la vostra causa

 

Men should be what they seem;

Or those that be not,

would they might seem none!

Gli uomini dovrebbero essere come sembrano;

potessero invece non sembrare nemmeno uomini

quelli che non sono come sembrano!

 

Who has a breast so pure

But some uncleanly apprehensions

Keep leets and law-days, and in session sit

With meditations lawful?

Chi può essere tanto puro di cuore

da non avere qualche indegno sospetto

che possa sedere in tribunale

e tenere udienza insieme con dei pensieri giusti?

 

But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which non enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed

Chi invece ruba il mio buon nome,

mi porta via una cosa che non fa ricco lui

e impoverisce me

 

O! beware, my lord, of jealousy;

It is the green-ey’d monster which doth mock

The meat it feeds on; that cuckold lives in bliss

Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;

But, O!what damnèd minutes tells he o’er

Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet soundly loves

Guardatevi dalla gelosia, signore.

E’ un mostro dagli occhi verdi,

che prima si diverte a giocare col cibo di cui si nutre.

Beato quel becco che sa di esserlo e non ama colei che lo tradisce!

Ma che vita dannata quella di chi ama e cova il dubbio,

di chi sospetta e spasima d’amore

 

Poor and content is rich, and rich enough,

But riches fineless is as poor as winter

To him that ever fears he shall be poor

Chi è povero e contento è ricco, anzi ricchissimo.

Ma chi è molto ricco e ha paura di diventare povero

è povero come l’inverno

 

O curse of marriage!

That we can call these delicate creatures ours,

And not their appetites

Maledetto il matrimonio

che ci fa chiamare nostre queste tenere creature,

ma non le loro voglie

 

Dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons,

Which at the first are scarce found to distaste,

But which a little act upon the blood,

Burn like the mines of sulphur

I sospetti sono per loro stessa natura come veleni:

in un primo momento si prova appena un senso di disgusto,

ma quando cominciano ad agire sul sangue,

bruciano come zolfo

 

I swear ‘tis better to be much abus’d
Than but to know’t a little

Ti giuro che è meglio essere davvero ingannato

che avere anche solo un dubbio

 

Her honour is an essence that’s not seen;

They have it very oft that have it not

L’onore è per sua natura invisibile;

spesso, proprio chi non l’ha pretende di averlo

 

But I do think it is their husbands’ faults

If wives do fall. Say that they slack their duties,

And pour our treasures into foreign laps,

Or else break out in peevish jealousies,

Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us,

Or scant our former having in despite;

Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace,

Yet have we some revenge

Ma io credo che se le mogli tradiscono,

la colpa è dei loro mariti!

Essi, infatti, spengono i loro slanci

e versano i tesori che ci spettano in altri grembi,

o smaniano per la gelosia e ci tengono prigioniere,

o ci picchiano e, per dispetto, ci riducono il denaro che ci davano prima.

Anche noi abbiamo il fiele;

e benchè non ci manchi qualche virtù, siamo capaci di vendicarci

 

God me such usage send,

Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend

Che Dio m’aiuti a non imparare il male dal male,

ma a ricavarne buoni insegnamenti

 

If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,

I can again thy former light restore,

Should I repent me; but once put out thy light,

Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature,

I know not where is that Promethean heat

That can thy light relume. When I have pluck’d thy rose.

I cannoti give in vital growth again,

It needs must wither: I’ll smell it on the tree

Quando avrò spento te, portatrice di fuoco,

se mi pentissi potrei sempre riaccenderti,

ma una volta spenta la tua luce,

magnifica opera della perfezione della natura,

non so dove potrei trovare il fuoco di Prometeo capace di riaccenderti.

Quando ti avrò colto, o rosa, non potrò più ridarti la linfa vitale,

e certamente appassirai.

Voglio sentire ancora il tuo odore sulla pianta

 

That death’s unnatural that kills for loving

La morte che uccide per amore va contro ogni legge della natura

 

Of one whose subdu’d eyes

Albeit unused to the melting mood,

Drop tears af fast as the Arabian trees

Their med’cinable gum

Dite che i miei occhi, vinti dal dolore,

non abituati a commuoversi tanto facilmente,

lasciano cadere lacrime fitte

come le gocce di resina degli alberi d’Arabia

Frasi in italiano e traduzioni in inglese, grazie a en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Shakespeare, aforisticamente.com, shakespeare.it e shakespeareinitaly.it

Frasi celebri, riassunti, trame, analisi delle opere e dei personaggi e materiale vario per chi studia o legge Shakespeare.

La vita non è che un’ombra che cammina, un povero attore,
che si agita e pavoneggia per un’ora sulla scena,
e poi non si presenta più. È il racconto
raccontato da un idiota, pieno di strepito e furore,
che non significa nulla.

Read more http://www.infonotizia.it/tomorrow-tomorrow-tomorrow-macbeth-traduzione-italiano-del-monologo-testo/

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slides translated from the originals at https://www.brainyquote.com/ 

SHAKESPEARE OLD - MODERN  ENGLISH

SONNET 1  

                           SONETTI IN ORIGINALE INGLESE ANTICO

                                 TRADOTTI IN INGLESE MODERNO

                                               raccolta di citazioni di personaggi famosi e autori classici,con testo in inglese e relativa traduzione in italiano

                         Se ti precedono i soldi, tutte le porte si spalancano

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SONNET 1

From fairest creatures we desire increase, We desire that all created things may grow more plentiful,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die, So that nature's beauty may not die out,
But as the riper should by time decease, But as an old man dies at the hand of time,
His tender heir might bear his memory: He leaves an heir to carry on his memory:
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, But you, interested only in your own beauty,
Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel, Feed the radiant light of life with self-regarding fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies, Making a void of beauty by so obsessing over your own looks,
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. With this behavior you are being cruel to yourself.
Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament You are now the newest ornament in the world, young and beautiful
And only herald to the gaudy spring, And the chief messenger of spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content But you are burying the gifts you have been given within yourself
And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding. And, dear one, because you deny others your beauty, you are actually wasting it.
Pity the world, or else this glutton be, Take pity on the world, or else be regarded as a selfish glutton,
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee. By the laws of God you must create a child, and the grave does not devour the memory of your loveliness
SONNET 2
When forty winters shall beseige thy brow, When forty years have made your brow wrinkled with age,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, And you are showing all the other signs of aging,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now, The pride and greatness of your youth, so much admired by everyone now,
Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held: Will be worth as little as a tattered weed:
Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies, Then, when you are asked 'where is your beauty now?',
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days, And, 'where is the treasure from your days of merriment?'
To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes, You must say, within your own eyes, now sunk deep in their sockets,
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise. Where lies a shameful confession of greed and self-obsession.
How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use, If you would have only put your beauty to a greater use,
If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine If only you could answer 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,' Shall give an account of my life and prove that I made no misuse of my time on earth.'
Proving his beauty by succession thine! Proving that his beauty, because he is your son, was once yours!
This were to be new made when thou art old, This child would be new-made when you are old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold. And you would see your own blood flow warm through him when you are cold.
SONNET 3
Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest Look in your mirror and tell the face you see
Now is the time that face should form another; That now is the time it should form another [create a child];
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, If you do not renew yourself,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother, You rob the world, and prevent some woman from becoming a mother.
For where is she so fair whose unear'd womb For where is the woman whose unploughed womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry? Would frown upon the way you plough your field?
Or who is he so fond will be the tomb Or who is he so foolish to love himself so much but let
Of his self-love, to stop posterity? Himself perish? [To make a tomb of self-love and not have a child to carry on his beauty?]
Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee You are the mirror of your mother, and she is the mirror of you
Calls back the lovely April of her prime: And in you she recalls the lovely April of her youth:
So thou through windows of thine age shall see So too will you see when you are old,
Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time. Free of wrinkles [now], these are your best years.
But if thou live, remember'd not to be, But if you live your life avoiding being remembered.
Die single, and thine image dies with thee. You will die childless, and your image will die with you.
SONNET 4
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Wasteful youth, why do you squander on yourself
Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy? the riches that you should leave to the world?
Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend, Nature gives nothing but only makes a loan and, being generous,
And being frank she lends to those are free. she lends only to those who are open hearted. Then, beautiful miser, why do you abuse
Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse the generous inheritance given to you to leave to someone else?
The bounteous largess given thee to give? Unsuccessful money-lender, why do you spend such great sums
Profitless usurer, why dost thou use when you can't live forever, by thinking of yourself only?
So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live? You are only cheating yourself, so, when nature calls you awa
For having traffic with thyself alone, what reasonable account will you be able to give of yourself?.
Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive. Your unused seed will have to be buried with you,
Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone, which, if used, would live as the administrator of your beauty
What acceptable audit canst thou leave?  
Thy unused beauty must be tomb'd with thee,  
Which, used, lives th' executor to be.  
SONNET 5
Those hours, that with gentle work did frame Time, that so carefully made those beautiful eyes that every other eye gazes at, will become a tyrant to those same lovely eyes and make them ugly; because never-resting time leads summer into hideous winter and destroys it there. Sap is stopped from rising by the frost and the leaves disappear; beauty is covered with snow and all the trees are bare. Then, if summer's distillation hadn't been preserved as a prisoner in a glass vial, that summer's legacy would be lost with that summer's death. Neither it nor the memory of what it was would remain. But flowers that have been distilled, even though they've been destroyed by winter, lose only their outward appearance: their substance lives on sweetly.
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 checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o'er-snowed 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.
SONNET 6
Then let not winter's ragged hand deface, So don't let winter's ragged hand disfigure that summer in you before your essence is distilled. Fill some vial; enrich some woman's womb with the treasure of your beauty before it dies. The interest from that would not be illegal lending if it made the willing borrower happy, which would happen if the loan was to breed another of yourself. Or ten times better if the interest were ten for one. Ten of yourself would be better than just one of you, with ten of your children existing, making ten images of you. Then what effect could death have if you should die, leaving you alive after your death? Don't be obstinate because you are far too beautiful to be the victim of death and have only worms as your heirs.
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distilled:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty's treasure ere it be self-killed.
That use is not forbidden usury,
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That's for thy self to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;
Ten times thy self 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-willed, for thou art much too fair
To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.
SONNET 7
Lo! in the orient when the gracious light Look! In the east when the glorious sun raises his burning head, all men's eyes pay tribute to his new, fresh appearance, serving his majesty with looks of awe. And having climbed that steep hill to heaven like a strong youth in the prime of life, mortals still worship his beauty as they watch his golden climb into the sky. But when he staggers away, old and feeble, from his highest point with weary horses, the eyes that were dutiful before, now turn away from him and look elsewhere. So you, yourself, declining from your noonday glory, will die disregarded, unless you beget a son
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.
SONNET 8
Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly? Why do you, who are music to listen to, listen to music sadly? Sweet things don't quarrel with sweet things, and joyful things delight in joyful things. Why do you love something that you don't enjoy, or get pleasure from something that causes you pain? If the true harmony of well-tuned sounds, married to each other in counterpoint, offends your ear, it is gently reprimanding you because by staying single you are denying the part you should play. Remember that one string reverberates with the others to produce rich music, like father and child and happy mother in a family, who all sing together in pleasing harmony. Their instrumental performance is a unity, although made up of many parts, and make this point, in music, to you: Being single you will be nothing.
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy:
Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly,
Or else receiv'st 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.
SONNET 9
Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye, Is it because you fear to make a widow grieve, that you waste yourself in bachelorhood? Ah, if you should happen to die childless the world will mourn for you like a bereaved widow. The world will be your widow and weep profusely because you have left no copy of yourself behind, while an ordinary widow is able to keep her husband's memory fresh by looking at her children. Whatever a money-waster spends just moves from one pocket to another and the world continues to enjoy it, but squandered beauty is lost to the world, and by not using it the user destroys it. There is no love for others in the heart of one who murders himself so shamelessly.
That thou consum'st thy self 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 murd'rous shame commits
SONNET 10
For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any, Out of a sense of shame you, who are so unwilling to provide for the future, should admit that you don't love anyone. I grant you, if you like, that you are loved by many, but it's very clear that you don't love anyone; because, being someone who doesn't hesitate to conspire against himself, you are determined to murder your potential progeny. You are prepared to end your noble line, which it should be your main concern to maintain. Oh! Change your mind, so that I can change my opinion of you. Do you, the most beautiful creature, want to be the house where hate lives? Be as gracious and generous to your relatives as you are to everyone else, or at least be generous to yourself. Change your mind for my sake so that you will be a noble person and that your beauty will live on in your descendants.
Who for thy self art so unprovident.
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident:
For thou art so possessed with murderous hate,
That 'gainst thy self 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.
© 2017 www.italian-english.it
by Roberto Brenna