"Ты сам свой злейший враг, готовый все сгубить." :-d
Цитата: От пользователя: yokiko
Отчего бы и нет? :-)
From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time
decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:
But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel:
Thou that art now the world's
fresh ornament,
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content,
And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding:
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:
But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed'st thy light's flame with
self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel:
Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament,
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content,
And, tender churl, mak'st waste
in niggarding:
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
I am very much oblget to you...Давно так никто не радовал! Откровенное спасибо!
Чесслово, не стоит благодарности. :-) Вот Вам тогда еще маленькая радость:
Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride,
The argument all bare is of more worth
Than when it hath my added praise beside!
O, blame me not, if I no more can write!
Look in your glass, and there appears a face
That over-goes my blunt invention quite,
Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace.
Were it not sinful then, striving to mend,
To mar
the subject that before was well?
For to no other pass my verses tend
Than of your graces and your gifts to tell;
And more, much more, than in my verse can sit
Your own glass shows you when you look in it.
Сидя и пукая под кресла,
В надежде креслам быть новее...
Вы обретёте состоянье
Машины старой.
Но, взирая на ножки стройные...
что в туфлях будят и мнут воображенье...
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