Petrarca CCCLXV

Imi plang statornic vremile trecute
si irosite-n patimi efemere,
fara ca-n zbor, uitindu-mi de durere,
sa-mi dau masura-aripii desfacute


Tu, ce-mi cunosti pacatele gemute,
stapan etern al vesnicelor stele,
da sufletului ratacit putere
si miruieste-L, Doamne, cu virtute

De m-am zbatut in lupta si furtuna,
adu-ma-n port si viata destramata
c-o moarte mai glorioasa mi-o razbuna.

Vegheaza-mi seara ce se scurge-nceata
si-ntinde-i mana cand va fi s-apuna,
caci doar la Tine mi-e nadejdea toata








*sa dovedesc ce pot realiza gratie insusirilor innascute-aripilor- cu care eram inzestrat

2001 A space Odyssey by Arthur C Clarke

Shakespeare

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
     And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
     As any she belied with false compare.

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.