Sonnet XXXII. If thou survive my well-contented day...
William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
If thou survive my well-contented day,
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,
Compare them with the bettering of the time,
And though they be outstripp'd by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
Exceeded by the height of happier men.
O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought:
'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age,
A dearer birth than this his love had brought,
To march in ranks of better equipage:
But since he died and poets better prove,
Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.'t.
Soneto XXXII
Si a mis días colmados sobrevives,
Y cuando esté en el polvo de la Muene
Una vez más relees por ventura
Los inhábiles versos de tu amigo,
Con lo mejor de tu época compáralos,
Y aunque todas las plumas los excedan,
Guárdalos por mi amor, no por mis rimas,
Superadas por hombres más felices.
Que tu amor reflexione: "Si su Musa
Crecido hubiera en esta edad creciente,
Frutos más caros a su edad le diera,
Dignos de incorporarse a tal cortejo:
Pero ha muerto; en poetas más notables
Estilo buscaré y en él amor.Etiquetas: William Shakespeare |
