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"A Sonnet A Day by Sir Patrick Stewart" playlist on this channel:    • Poetry: Sonnet 1 by William Shakespea...  

Sonnet 86 by William Shakespeare

Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
Bound for the prize of all too precious you,
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?

Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write
Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
No, neither he, nor his compeers by night
Giving him aid, my verse astonished.

He, nor that affable familiar ghost
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,
As victors of my silence cannot boast;
I was not sick of any fear from thence:

But when your countenance filled up his line,
Then lacked I matter; that enfeebled mine.

• ────────────────────────────────── •
86. szonett (fordította Győry Vilmos és Szász Károly)

Az ő dalának büszke szárnyalása,
A melylyel, drága, téged elragadt,
Megért eszméimnek sírt tán az ása,
Hogy holt lön ott, hol kelt a gondolat?
Vagy lelke – melyet, túlvilágit irni,
Lelkek vezettek – tán az sújt le? Nem!
Sem ő nem tudta rémülésre birni,
Sem éji czimborái énekem’.
Sem ő, sem e bizalmas csacska lélek,
Mely éjjel ál tudással tölti el,
Nem dicsekhetnek – kiktől mit se félek –
Elnémitásom győzedelmivel.
De, hogy dalát te tetszéssel emelted,
Ez volt mi tőlem kedvet, hangot elvett.

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