Alan Rickman - Sonnet 130 | Текст песни

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• Alan Rickman
• Sonnet 130

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My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white; why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks,
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go -
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.