Shakespeare's Sonnets Translation Sonnet 50
How heavy do I journey on the way When what I seek (my weary travel’s end) Doth teach that ease and that repose to say, “Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend.” The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, Plods dully on to bear that weight in me, As if by some instinct the wretch did know His rider loved not speed, being made from thee. The bloody spur cannot provoke him on That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide, Which heavily he answers with a groan, More sharp to me than spurring to his side; For that same groan doth put this in my mind: My grief lies onward and my joy behind.
How heavily do I travel on my journey
When what I am looking for (the end of my weary travels),
Will only permit my ease and repose to say:
"I measure the miles I've travelled by how far I am from my friend."
The beast that carries me, tired with my sorrow,
Plods slowly from bearing that weight in me,
As if by some instinct, the wretched creature knew
His rider did not love speed, since it makes me further from you.
This bloody spur can't provoke him to ride more quickly
That I sometimes thrust angrily into his hide,
Which he answers sadly with a groan,
More painful to me than spurring is to his side
Because that same groan makes me think this:
My grief lies ahead, and my joy behind.
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