tisdag 30 mars 2010

Meu amor, meu pássaro cinzento

A chorar a lonjura, do nosso afastamento,
Meu amor, meu amor, meu nó de sofrimento,
Minha mão de ternura, minha mão de tormento,
Este mar não tem cura, Este céu não tem ar.

För att jag känner mig kärleksfull och shakesperean här får ni den mest kända och min favorit, Sonnet XVIII:

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;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

För att jag saknar dig så otroligt mycket just nu.


1 kommentar:


Gud, ni är så fina!

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