Shakespeare's Sonnets Translation Sonnet 112
Your love and pity doth th' impression fill Which vulgar scandal stamped upon my brow; For what care I who calls me well or ill, So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow? You are my all the world, and I must strive To know my shames and praises from your tongue; None else to me, nor I to none alive, That my steeled sense or changes right or wrong. In so profound abysm I throw all care Of others' voices, that my adder’s sense To critic and to flatt’rer stoppèd are. Mark how with my neglect I do dispense: You are so strongly in my purpose bred That all the world besides methinks y'are dead.
Your love and sympathy fills in the mark
That a public disgrace has stamped on my forehead;
But what do I care who calls me good or bad,
Since you cover my badness, and accept my goodness?
You are all the world to me, and I must strive
To know my disgrace and praise from your speech;
No one else exists for me, or I to anyone alive,
And you change right and wrong in my stubborn mind.
Into a deep abyss I through all worries
About other peoples' opinions, so that my deaf mind
Is closed to critics and flatterers.
See how I neglect everything:
You are so much a part of my plan
That the whole world besides me thinks you are dead.
