Шекспiр. Сонет 20

Sonnet 20 by William Shakespeare

A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women's fashion;
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue, all 'hues' in his controlling,
Much steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure,
Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure.

Шексп?р. Сонет 20
(за мотивами)

Краса твоя — ж?ноча… Юний ти,
не грубий, як вс? ?нш?, чолов?к,
у св?т цей мав ти ж?нкою прийти…
Я знаю, ти подобатися звик
ж?нкам, д?вчатам та й чолов?кам,
однак, ж?ночих хитрощ?в нема
в душ? тво?й… Не поряд ти, десь там,
далеко, бо закохана сама
Природа в цей прекрасний образ тв?й,
тому й тебе у мене в?дняла,
зробивши чолов?ком, ти не м?й…
Не скаржусь я, в душ? нема? зла,
те дай мен?, що ти ц?ну?ш сам, —
любов, а решту всю в?ддай ж?нкам…