Jonathan ROBIN

Freshman - 521 Points (22 September / London)

Triomphe De La Mort French Translation William Shakespeare Sonnet Lxxi - Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Entendant le glas tonner mon départ,
L’on dira parmi les vers je soupis,
Image en poussière ensevelie,
Sois gaie toujours, ne pleure espoirs épars.
Ainsi si sur ces vers tombe un regard
Bienveillant, oublie la main qu’ici
Ecrit ces mots: 'je t’aime à la folie! '
Toi, triste, j’en aurais double cafard!
Hélas, si dans ce monde tu t’égares,
Sirène, quand je ne suis qu'un oubli,
Eh! ne donne à mon nom l’écho de vie,
Repose en paix l’amour, et t’en sépare.
Va! je serais loin. Toi, fleur de ton époque,
Ainsi évite un monde qui te moque!

- -

(2 December 1990)
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile earth, with vilest worms to dwell:
Nay if you read this line remember not
The hand that writ it, for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O, if, I say, you look upon this verse,
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay
Lest the wise world should look into your moan
And mock you with me after I am gone.
William Shakespeare

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, July 21, 2013

Poem Edited: Monday, July 22, 2013

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