Английская поэзия XIV–XX веков в современных русских переводах (билингва)

Were I as base as is the lowly plain,

And you, my Love, as high as heaven above,

Yet should the thoughts of me your humble swain

Ascend to heaven, in honour of my Love.

Were I as high as heaven above the plain,

And you, my Love, as humble and as low

As are the deepest bottoms of the main,

Whereso’er you were, with you my love should go.

Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,

My love should shine on you like to the sun,

And look upon you with ten thousand eyes

Till heaven wax’d blind, and till the world were done.

Whereso’er I am, below, or else above you,

Whereso’er you are, my heart shall truly love you.

They say that shadows of deceased ghosts

Do haunt the houses and the graves about,

Of such whose life’s lamp went untimely out,

Delighting still in their forsaken hosts:

So, in the place where cruel Love doth shoot

The fatal shaft that slew my love’s delight,

I stalk, and walk, and wander day and night,

Even like a ghost with unperceived foot.

But those light ghosts are happier far than I,

For, at their pleasure, they can come and go

Unto the place that hides their treasure so,

And see the name with their fantastic eye:

Where I, alas, dare not approach the cruel

Proud moment that doth enclose my jewel.