Текст песни Shakespeare - Sonnet 14

Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck,
And yet methinks I have astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find:
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars *, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive
If from thy self to store thou wouldst convert:
Or else of thee this I prognosticate,
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.

What are the stars to me on a black night?
What do I need turquoise for in the morning?
I would prefer to all the luminaries
Your eyes.
I would read in them without error,
Where time will take us
And one by one your smile
Foresaw everything:
Earthquakes and wars
The end of ages, the beginning of troubles,
And a stormy year, and a calm year,
And the last judgment ...
However, if you are with me,
I don't give a damn about the rest.