Poesia

A arte de expressar-se claramente em palavras confusas “)

…eis a minha favorita…

Sonnet 18
William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day
Thou art more lovely and more temperate
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of Ma
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime 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 wander’st 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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