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Sonnet CLXIII
poetry [ ]
from "Shakespeare’s last imaginary sonnets in a visionary translation" by Vasile Voiculescu

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by [cam ]

2006-12-24  |     | 



From love’s blizzard that’s all I can amass,
To make me a noose from your delicate dress...
Forgive her and close your eyes, other thoughts impel,
However, much more cries the blinded nightingale.
So insofar, have mercy, my pain,
Instead of vengeance to blest the runaway
To wring out tears from art and immortality
And turn her hideous treason into world’s jewelry.
But who can verse and soul to borrow me
When you are missing, the pith of marvel?
Oh, my heart, my cords are alike silent,
Today I see so clearly that lie ruled as a giant:

I was too blind when I had you in front,
Your splendor impounded my eyes while gave birth to song!

25 December 1954




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