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Первая книжка года, которую я наконец-то вымучила — купленная три года назад в шекспировском Глобусе "Двенадцатая ночь" и так называемые избранные сонеты, избранность которых заключается в том, что кто-то взял все подряд с 84 по 154.

В большинстве сонетов непонятно больше половины, непонятно настолько, что дочитывая конец забываешь начало, а всё равно не оторваться, потому что какой там язык летящий и свободный, ах и ах.

А сто шестой сонет особенный, потому чем больше всё меняется, тем меньше изменений:


The first book of the year finished after three years of reading it on and off after seeing the play. Shakespeare's Twelfth Night and selected sonnets, the selection consisting of chopping out every sonnet from 84 to 154.

I can understand less than half of most them, and sometimes I understand so little I forget the beginning of the sonnet after getting to the end. But they are fascinating and the language is so vivid and alive it's enviable.

And sonnet number 106 is special because the more things change the more they are the same:

When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme,
In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,
Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have expressed
Even such a beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
And for they looked but with divining eyes,
They had not skill enough your worth to sing:
For we, which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.

Sonnet 106
I know that hearts were loving
Long before I was here
And I'm not the first to ever cry
In my bed or in my beer
There were songs before there was radio
Of love that stays and love that goes
They were writing meloncholy tunes
And tearful words that rhyme
Before my time
Before my time

There were songs in old dusty books
Of love thats always been
Sweet lovers in their glory
Who are now gone with the wind
Old fashion love words spoken then
Keep coming back around again
Nothings changed except the names
Their love burns just like mine
Before my time
Before my time

And in the dim of yesterday
I can clearly see
That flesh and blood cried out to someone
As it does in me
And there was some old song that said
I love you 'til I die
Before my time
Before my time

But what the old time masters had
Is what I feel for you
Love is love and doesn't change
In a century or two
If someway they had seen and knew
How it would be for me and you
They'd wish for love like yours
And they would wish for love like mine
Before my time
Before my time

Johnny Cash
Before My Time

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November 2017


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