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William SHAKESPEARE (1564-1616)
Pages correspond to the Livre de Poche edition, Bibliothèque Classique, bilingue, 1992.
Poem XVIII, pp. 34-35
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:
Sometimes 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, untrimmed.
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.
Poem XXXV, pp. 52-53
No more ve griev’d at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud,
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
All men make faults and even I in this,
Authorizing thy trespass with compare,
Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,
Excusing thy sins more thy sins are;
For to thy sensual fault, I bring in sense –
Thy adverse party is thy advocate –
And ‘gainst myself a lawful plea commence.
Such civil war is in my love and hate,
That I an acessary needs must be,
To that sweet thief which sourely robs from me.
Poème XLIII, pp. 60-61
All days are night to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
Poème LXXVI, pp. 92-93
For as the sun is daily new and old,
So is my love still telling what is told.