SONNET 132
Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain,
Have put on black and loving mourners be,
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
And truly not the morning sun of heaven
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,
Nor that full star that ushers in the even
Doth half that glory to the sober west,
As those two mourning eyes become thy face:
O, let it then as well beseem thy heart
To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace,
And suit thy pity like in every part.
Then will I swear beauty herself is black
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.
Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain,
Have put on black and loving mourners be,
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
And truly not the morning sun of heaven
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,
Nor that full star that ushers in the even
Doth half that glory to the sober west,
As those two mourning eyes become thy face:
O, let it then as well beseem thy heart
To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace,
And suit thy pity like in every part.
Then will I swear beauty herself is black
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.
SONETTO 132
Amo i tuoi occhi, ed essi con compianto,
Poiché il tuo cuor sdegnoso mi tortura,
Han preso il lutto e d’amoroso pianto
Il mio dolore miran con premura.
Né da più luce il sole del mattino
Alle pallide gote dell’oriente,
Né la stella del vespro sorridente
Da metà di tua gloria all’occidente,
Come fanno i tuoi occhi al tuo sembiante.
Oh, lascia che il tuo cuore gli somigli,
Piangi per me, ché il tuo pianto ti dona,
Adorna di pietà la tua persona
E giurerò che nera è la bellezza
E chi non ha cotal color disprezza.