Shakespeare's Sonnets Translation Sonnet 27
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travail tired; But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired. For then my thoughts, from far where I abide, Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see. Save that my soul’s imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new. Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.
Exhausted, I hurry to my bed,
The precious resting place for my tired limbs;
But then a journey begins in my head
Making my mind work when my body's work has finished.
Then my thoughts, from far away,
Make a pious pilgrimage to where you are,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking at darkness like a blind men.
Except that the imagination of my soul
Presents your shadowy image to my sightless sight,
Which, like a jewel hanging in a horrifying night,
Makes the black night beautiful and young again.
So! Every day my limbs and every night my mind,
Because of you and because of me, can find no rest.
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