:: من روائع شكسبير ::

shall I compare




Shall I compare thee to a summer's day


Thou art more lovely and more temperate


Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May


And summer's lease hath all too short a date


Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines


And often is his gold complexion dimmed


And every fair from fair sometimes declines


By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed


But thy eternal summer shall not fade


Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest

Nor shall death brag thou wanderest in his shade


when in eternal lines to time thou growest


So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see


So long lives this. and this gives life to thee









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