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Shakespeare, William: L. Szonett (L. Sonnet in Hungarian)

Portre of Shakespeare, William
Portre of Szabó Lőrinc

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L. Sonnet (English)

How heavy do I journey on the way,
When what I seek, my weary travel's end,
Doth teach that ease and that repose to say,
"Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!"

The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,
As if by some instinct the wretch did know
This rider lov'd not speed being made from thee.

The bloody spur cannot provoke him on,
That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide,
Which heavily he answers with a groan,
More sharp to me than spurring to his side;

   For that same groan doth put this in my mind,
   My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.



Uploaded byDvorcsák Gábor Imre
PublisherOxquarry Books Ltd.
Source of the quotationthe amazing web site of Shakespeare's sonnets

L. Szonett (Hungarian)

De nehezen haladok utamon,
Tudva, hogy a célban, ha ott leszek,
Gúnyosan mondja majd a nyugalom:
»Ennyi mérföldre van a kedvesed!«

Csügged kínomtól és csak vánszorog
Az állat, mely visz; a bú nagy teher!
Szegény, tán az ösztöne súgja, hogy
Nem siet ura, hisz tőled megy el.

Sarkantyút mérgem hasztalan merít
Oldalába, hogy kibuggyan a vér,
Válasza engem, ha nyög s fölnyerít,
Jobban sért, mint őt az éles acél;

   Mert hangjára folyton agyamba döbben:
   Elöl bánatom van, s üdvöm mögöttem.



Uploaded byDvorcsák Gábor Imre
PublisherEurópa könyvkiadó
Source of the quotationShakespeare Szonettek
Bookpage (from–to)56
Publication date

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