Niet vertaald natuurlijk, heb alleen het idee gejat.
Ik geloof niet dat ik het met rijm zou kunnen vertalen.
Sonnet 130
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 damask'd, 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 she belied with false compare
Shakespaere
Heb even het origineel opgezocht en overgtypt, heb wel dingetjes vertaald, maar toch wel zo dat het een beetje van toepassing is op mijn hele lieve vriendje